Judgment Days
by Dreaming Spire
Summary: While the war has ended, darker conflicts erupt, and Link strives to uncover the truth about a young man who he believes he has every reason to despise. Walking towards a dubious future, Link tries to fit the pieces together. Link x Sheik
1. one

**Judgment Days**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy.

**Warnings:** Language, future yaoi, violence, light het

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Aubuyn:** Possibly my favorite story that I'm currently writing. I'm planning on it being roughly eleven chapters, give or take, with maybe an epilogue. Right now, I have up to chapter five completed, so the waiting period between chapters will probably be about two to three weeks. Anyway, some notes about the story: Sheik is a borderline antihero, I tweaked the OoT plotline a bit, and there will be some references to het pairings. So, without further ado, I present to you the dark epic, Judgment Days.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter One:**

"_**Look over here**_**."**

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Beside him, Zelda drew in a deep, shuddery breath and furiously blinked back the wall of unshed tears building in her clouded eyes. Then, steeling her expression, she drew herself up proudly, chin held high, the very image of dignity and grace even in her state — swathed in layers of grime and blood. Link watched out of the corner of his eye, envying her power, her inner strength, before turning back to witness the scene unfolding, his lips tight and his eyes haunted.

Somehow, he had always imagined this moment, with naïve wistfulness, being much more… incredible. For the last six months, in his fitful, sparse dreaming, he had envisioned it — the ultimate defeat of the spurious king, the fall of the fortress, the conclusion of an era of suffering and senseless death. And there he was, astonishingly alive, gazing blankly over the lip of the precipice and down into the bubbling pool of lava below, watching with grim satisfaction as it slowly cooled and congealed. The final remnant of Ganondorf's evil, his keep, had sunken into the magma, swallowed and destroyed, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound in the earth where Hyrule Castle, in all its radiant glory, had once stood.

His hands trembled where they were curled into tight, pale fists at his sides.

The war had ended. Ganondorf was dead.

Yet, before the King of Evil had been slain, he had raped Hyrule of all its worth, all its hope, all its life. Beyond, in the hazy, twilit sky, the brilliant sun crested the summit of Death Mountain, highlighting with its light a decimated kingdom of barren hills and withered towns.

The battle was over, Link knew, but, in the end, Ganondorf had won.

Hyrule was a dying country. Its people, even on this day, were anguished. They would never forget the wrongs brought upon them, nor find enough soil to properly bury those lost. Dark times had befallen them, but even darker awaited. Now they had to march forward into a future, a future that not one of them could imagine.

Because not one of them had thought this day possible.

Their rightful Queen was seventeen and had spent the past seven years in hiding. She was, in all truth, a child. But, then again, they _both_ were.

Zelda took his hand, and Link closed his eyes, tightening his fingers on the ones cradling his, focusing on the tattered, raggedly rough silk of her gloves against his palm. When he turned to her, his countenance weary, his shoulders slumped with lassitude, he found that her own expression mirrored his. Her sapphire blue eyes were shadowed with an ancient, aching sorrow, one that Link knew would never ebb.

Partially obscured by the folds of their clothes, their linked hands had become outlined with the soft, warm glow of the Triforces, reminding them that while Ganondorf was defeated and the war was over, they still had work to accomplish. The goddesses weren't finished with them yet.

Link remembered the fading light of a fairy, remembered a lovely, melodious voice silenced in blood, and thought desperately, _Please, just give us a day. A day to mourn_.

He shuddered, his shoulders wracking, but did not cry. Zelda defiantly glared into the sun next to him, but couldn't stop the tears this time, and they streamed now, creating trails of gleaming wetness in the caked dirt in her cheeks. Link couldn't remember a time when she had been more beautiful.

"Nothing…will ever be the same," Link lamented brokenly, and Zelda, understanding, squeezed his hand, a tiny, breathy sigh of distressing concurrence escaping her dry, cracked lips.

"You're wrong, Hero," curtly dissented a soft, airy voice, so familiar but impossible that Link froze. For a moment, the challenge was ignored; Link refused to turn, refused to see if his suspicions were correct — but, why would they be? Why would _he_ be here?

No. It was just the wind playing with his hearing. Just the shadows playing with his mind. Link would _not_ turn. He would _not_ look.

He turned. He looked.

Immediately, the muscles in his back and arms seized up instinctively and the thin, fine hairs at the nape of his neck prickled in subtle warning, because there, as casually and as nonchalantly as though he belonged, stood Sheik behind Queen Zelda, staring at Link over her shoulder with an alarming intensity. For a moment, Link was paralyzed; Sheik was here. Sheik was _here_. Sheik dared to show his face _here_.

The man's words registered, the challenge acknowledged, and righteous anger simmered quietly behind Link's blue eyes.

"How can you say that?" he demanded, his lips curling back into a horrible, feral snarl as he eyed Sheik over once. His mind buzzed in annoyance, informing him there were better questions to be asked of this man, this traitor, this murderer, but he waved it aside impatiently, wondering if Sheik could see every thought that fluttered through his head with those strange, Sheikah eyes. "Ganondorf has utterly destroyed any hope this country might have had for a future," Link continued, his shoulders and calves tense as if he were preparing to charge headlong into a battalion of moblins. "The people have been tormented for seven _years_, living in conditions not even suitable for rats, never mind Hylians! Their lives will never be the same! _Our_ lives will never be the same! And yet here you are! Telling me _I'm_ wrong!"

"Link," Zelda murmured, her tone mollifying, belying the sharpness of her suddenly piercing eyes. She extricated her hand from his iron grip to place it gently on his shaking shoulder, her thumb massaging circles in the weathered fabric of his tunic. "Please calm yourself. This is not the time to — "

"Do you believe me ignorant of the quality of life the people have been reduced to?" asked Sheik lowly, his tone cutting. His eyes, the only aspect of his visage not masked, were narrowed with a quiet fury, the pupils contracted to tiny, black slits of onyx in a sea of red. "Do you think I am unaware of the atrocities that have been committed upon this country?"

"Sheik!" reprimanded Zelda irately, whirling around to scowl at him, annoyed that the usually level-headed, taciturn young man was trying to incite the Hero.

"Oh, of course not!" retorted Link, his loud voice echoing and resounding about them. "How could I believe such things when _you're_ the one who committed half those atrocities?!"

"_Quiet_!" snapped Zelda, and both men paused, glowering heatedly at one another over her head. The Queen, one hand held up to Sheik's chest and another pushing against Link's, shoved them back with surprising force. She turned on Link, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. "Link! You…!" She trailed off to compose herself, steadying her fast, furious breathing and tucking waylaid locks from her face behind her ear. Then, gritting her teeth, she continued. "Link. Do _not_ presume to know or understand what Sheik has — "

"No!" interrupted Link, his voice choked and strangled. He straightened, face contorted with ugly rage, and Zelda, her lips pursed and her eyes searching, fell silent thoughtfully at the bitterness in his eyes. "No," Link growled again, quivering with anger. "I don't presume anything, Zelda. I _know_."

"You know nothing, then," Sheik flatly avowed, arms crossed and folded over his chest.

"I know that you've murdered dozens of innocents," hissed Link, his tone an awful, harsh whisper that was so deafening in the sudden silence between them. "I know that you were the one who led the raid on Lon Lon Ranch. That you were the one to _murder_ Malon."

The stillness was stifling, laden with a thick, tangible tension that crackled with spent, emotional energy. Zelda's face was drawn, pale, and Link realized that while she had been aware of Sheik's actions in the war, she had never come to terms with the unbelievable magnitude of his deeds. It was morbidly appropriate, mused Link, that in a strange, twisted way, Link had become the messenger of tidings and Sheik the bringer of death. For once, their roles had been reversed.

Sheik stared at him.

"I've seen his work, Zelda, _firsthand_," Link went on softly, and though he addressed her, his eyes remained locked on the other man's. "I don't care what his motives were. I really don't care if he was just trying to worm his way into Ganondorf's trust. You just don't…" He stopped, remembering Malon's ashen white face, her cold, bloodless lips, her wide, glassy eyes. Throat tight, he struggled to find the words before wretchedly ending it with, "…you just_ don't_."

The wind sighed, gingerly tugging at their hair, and Link blinked rapidly, finding it difficult to continue looking Sheik in the eye when he knew that those eyes, that face, that _man_, had been the last thing Malon had perceived. Swallowing heavily, he discovered nervous solace in the skies above, watching the determined sun steadily fight through the last of the dark, black clouds that Link had once so readily associated with Ganondorf. He could feel Sheik scrutinizing him, could feel that soul-reading gaze burning into him, and Link couldn't help but think forlornly, _I trusted you, you sonovabitch. I trusted you and see what you've done? You took away one of my only friends in life._

The sunlight was garish, and Link squinted his eyes, reaching up with his left hand to shield them, only to catch sight of the Triforce. He smiled, a dismal and melancholy quirk of the lips, and stretched out his arm to the sky, spreading wide his fingers and staring at the back of his hand. The sunbeams illuminated the straight, cold lines of each triangle, gave temporary luminous life to the symbol. Zelda and Sheik watched.

"Come," bid the Sheikah abruptly.

Link started, dropping his arm guiltily, and turned to regard Sheik, only to be presented with the young man's back as he swiftly walked away. Zelda, her expression pensive, hoisted the skirts of her ruined dress up in one hand and briskly followed with unquestioning compliance, abandoning Link by the deep crater Ganondorf had created. His shoulders sagged, and he watched the two of them with longing, something in his chest cavity clenching, but then Zelda stopped and pivoted, her eyebrows knitted together. She tilted her head to the side, an expectant look on her face.

She was waiting for him.

He jogged to catch up, his scabbard and shield noisily bouncing against his back, and slowed to a halt beside Zelda, who smiled encouragingly at him, her eyes soft. He offered a weak, tentative smile in return, and they hastily hiked up the rocky hills after Sheik, who was walking the rubble strewn path with relative ease. However, instead of taking the route to what was left of town, the young man veered off to the left, to where Link knew a single, fractured stone arch remained, the last vestige of the old castle. Zelda paused as they passed underneath it, placing the flat of her hand against what had once been the gate, and Link gently pulled her away, away from the dark memories and the inescapable desires.

"I was not trying to imply everything will return to its previous order, Hero," Sheik was saying, his voice muffled by the cowl. Link frowned in confusion before he understood that the Sheikah was referring to their first argument. Curious but wary, he stepped around Sheik as the man gracefully bent down and began to clear debris from the ground. "I meant that not everything has been warped and twisted these seven years. Look over here."

Link did. There, unfurling between Sheik's long, slender fingers, a lone budding flower sprung up, its petals fluttering in the breeze.

"The nature of life has not changed," murmured the Sheikah, stroking the frail stem of the flower once before standing and backing away. "Life will go on, and so shall we."

Zelda dropped to her knees, her dress unceremoniously jostled in the dirt, wrinkled and tangled. She cupped the flower in her hands, her eyes brimming with happy, unshed tears, and looked over at Sheik gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered, having found the hope she had been searching for in the tiny blossom. She laughed softly, her lips trembling, and began to sob, all of her pent up emotions bursting forth with the realization that her kingdom had a future.

Link sat down heavily to the right, his elbows resting on his legs, and dropped his limp, tired hands between his knees, watching Zelda silently. A moment passed, and then he could feel body warmth radiating from Sheik, sitting next to him, and he fought down the immediate panic within him. He reminded himself that Sheik _technically_ was a good guy, that he wouldn't try anything, but couldn't suppress the anxiety and strain the man's proximity brought upon, and tried not to flinch when the Sheikah's soft curls of hair tickled the sensitive shell of his ear.

"We need to keep walking forward," Sheik whispered, breath ghosting across Link's face as the Hero stared stubbornly at his hands, not acknowledging the other. "We cannot continue to play this game. Mourn today. Hate me today. But tomorrow, and all the days thereafter, we need to collaborate, for our own sakes, and that of Hyrule's."

"Yes," agreed Link, finally glancing up, meeting the red eyes inches from his own. "I will mourn today, and tomorrow, we will work together to restore this country." His eyes steeling over, he reached out and grabbed Sheik's cowl, hauling the other closer until their noses bumped. "But remember this; I will _always_ hate you."

Link shoved a quiet Sheik away, eyeing the man with cold vehemence, and rolled onto his feet, crossing over to stand behind Zelda with an almost protective air, his face dark and brooding.

And Sheik watched, his red eyes vacant, before silently walking away.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Aubuyn:** Thank you for reading and please review! If I'm encouraged enough, maybe the second chapter will be out next week. (_Edited on January 14th_)


	2. two

**Judgment Days**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.

**Warnings:** Language, mentions of violence/murder

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the positive feedback everyone! And yes, Judgment Days does follow, loosely, the plotline of the manga. Though, don't worry if you haven't read it; it's not necessary to the story.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter Two:**

_**Just a Radio-Cassette Player**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

His legs dangled off of the small, wooden platform, booted feet slowly and carelessly swinging beneath him as he allowed the low, hypnotic melody rising forth from the ocarina to sway his limber body. A wave of goosebumps flared up his bare arms as a cool, moist breeze whistled by softly, and in the distance, the old windmill stirred to life, creaking and churning. Lulled by the music of the ocarina, the people extinguished the lights of Kakariko one by one, and night finally fell, breathing moonlight onto the rooftops of the village.

Link could hear muffled noises emitting from the house at his back, the house that Impa had once lived in, and smiled around the ocarina, not at all surprised that Zelda was still awake — probably pouring over more official documents from the King of the Zoras and Darunia. He knew he'd be the one to coax the papers away from her in a few hours, to guide her to the bed and sit by her side until she fell asleep. Maybe tonight, he wondered, she wouldn't be plagued by dreams or visions. Maybe tonight, she'd sleep peacefully.

He frowned.

It had been sixteen days since Ganondorf had been slain. Since then, Zelda and Link had been sharing Impa's house in Kakariko while the Gorons and the Hylians alike labored to rebuild the castle. Sometimes, when they weren't swamped in Kakariko, the two youths would visit the town and spend the day helping out with the reconstruction of the market. Sometimes, when they had received important messages from the Zora, they would travel up Death Mountain to relay them to Darunia. Sometimes, when it was midnight, Sheik would show up and watch them sleep, consequently causing Link to agitatedly roll about in his cot, unable to rest with the man staring at his back. Sometimes, Link just stayed in bed and clung to the Master Sword, staring up at the ceiling wearily.

Sixteen days, but it seemed like sixteen weeks. He counted the days by the creases and lines that emerged from Zelda's exhausted face as time passed.

The song finished, and Link sighed heavily, dropping the ocarina to his lap. Leaning back on his hands, he glanced down, examining the wind instrument with a wistful, longing smile. It was the very one that Saria had presented to him in the Kokiri Forest all those years ago — back when it had been too large for his small, awkwardly clumsy hands. He grinned.

"Think I should contact Saria?" he asked offhand, looking up at the stars painting the sky. When no answer came, his grin disappeared to be replaced with a puzzled frown. Twisting at the waist, he looked over his shoulder. "Navi?"

It _hurt_ when it hit him, and damn, it hit him _hard_. He remembered, in that silent, shattered second, that Navi was gone, and, in that second of terrible, cruel realization, he was more vulnerable than he had ever been in his life. Inhaling sharply, Link clutched the ocarina, his eyes wide and round — the eyes of a child waking from nightmares. Unbidden, memories of her death rose from the darkness of his mind, memories that he had kept locked, tightly sealed, hidden away for a reason, only to be followed by a whirling torrent of other images he wasn't ready to face.

Crying out as if struck, he drew his legs to his chest, curling up protectively, and violently pushed away the dark, twisted memories, shaking his head from side to side wildly. Scenes of a bloody, broken fairy cradled in his hands flashed through his head, and he shuddered, desperately latching onto other memories, memories concerning the Kokiri Forest, the Skull Kids, Saria, Mido. Finally, when Navi's dying form no longer haunted him, he opened his eyes, shaking, and peered blindly into the night, his shoulders sagging with relief.

"Why did you stop?"

He was on his feet, sword drawn and humming through the air, ocarina forgotten and tumbling to the ground twelve feet below. Steel hissed against steel, and the Master Sword was stilled with a single, wickedly gleaming knife, the only barrier between Link's blade and Sheik's cowl hidden neck.

That moment, frozen, hung precariously as the two young men remained locked in place, paused in their defensive and offensive crouches, their weapons straining against each other. Link was panting, his eyes wide and dangerous, and Sheik was trembling, his arm beginning to give under the powerful pressure of the Master Sword. Then the moment broke, and Sheik darted away just as the Master Sword crashed down, cutting through the air with a scream, and implanted itself in the platform.

Link was still holding onto the hilt, his breathing ragged, and stared blankly at where Sheik had been standing seconds before. The Sheikah was eyeing him warily from where he was safely perched on the roof, his blonde hair silver in the moonlight.

"I apologize," the other began slowly, "for startling you."

Link stumbled away from the Master Sword, horrified at his inability to differentiate friend from foe, and his face flushed angrily. While Sheik was swift and had managed to parry his swing, others would not have been capable of doing so, including Queen Zelda. Link shuddered, rubbing the back of his left hand unconsciously and unsuccessfully attempted to calm his buzzing nerves and the blood racing in his ears. A forced, faltering apology of his own was tumbling off his tongue before he suddenly remembered something.

His eyebrows furrowed, he examined the wooden planks at his feet, chewing on his lip nervously. Then, cursing beneath his breath, he knelt down and leaned over the platform edge, searching through the sea of darkness below, the moonbeams guiding him. He gasped.

The ocarina lay, split into two, upside down beside a large, protruding rock in the cuckoo's corral. Saria's ocarina, broken.

Sheik followed Link's stricken gaze and upon locating the source of the Hero's grief, his facial expression, though very well concealed, became pained. His mouth opened to speak, to say _something_, and he reached out to place a hand on Link's shoulder, only to find that the man was flinging himself off of the ledge.

Gracelessly, Link dropped to the ground, landing on his haunches, and ignored the dull pain that laced through his legs as he quickly scrambled over to the ocarina — his last connection to the Kokiri, to Saria, to Navi.

To a childhood he'd never had.

A soft thud behind him, and eyes upon his back, but Link promptly disregarded the presence of Sheik, focusing all of his attention and energy on the two pieces of the ocarina in his hands. His chest rumbled loudly, and he fought down the frenzied laughter that threatened to burst forth, fought down the rising sense of hysteria swelling within him.

Hands strangely stable, he meticulously aligned the halves and then carefully pushed them together, watching the jagged crack between them meld temporarily and disappear, only to resurface when he pulled the pieces apart. Link plopped down onto his butt from the crouch, his head bowed, and examined the ocarina haplessly.

Footsteps, soft and muted in the dewy grass, and a hand, the fingers long and slender, hesitantly brushing over his arm.

"…I…I'm sorry, Link."

Link shook his head curtly, dismissing the apology, his jaw tight. He knew it wasn't Sheik's fault. It was his own idiocy and hyperaware instincts that had broken the ocarina. If he hadn't jumped up…if he hadn't tried to attack…

"What do you want?" Link croaked, coughing to hide the weak, childish tremor in his voice as he aligned the two pieces again, cramming the rough, uneven wooden edges together. He experimentally let go of one side; the piece slid off, and he frantically caught it midair.

Sheik didn't immediately answer, and Link, weary, glanced over his shoulder, only to yelp and lurch away when his eyes connected with red ones inches from his face. Scowling, he eyed Sheik warily a few feet away, protectively holding the ocarina to his chest. Sheik sighed.

"The carpenters may be able to fix it," he suggested, his tone awkward and uncertain even as he stood and once again approached, this time crouching in front of Link. He studied the ocarina closely, glancing thoughtfully at Link. "From what I have heard, they owe you anyways for — "

There it was. Sheik's delusional and illogical reasoning. Again.

Annoyance mounted in Link, and winter blue eyes became icy with ire. "Not everyone expects a debt to be repaid," he snapped, bristling at the very thought of demanding payment of the poor carpenters for saving them in the Gerudo fortress. It was something, Link thought resentfully, that Ganondorf might have pulled.

Oh, but wait. This was Ganondorf's trained little assassin, wasn't it?

"From what _I've _heard," he continued coldly, "it's called a good deed. Know what that is?" His tone was condescending and his manner was immature, yes, but his ocarina was broken, Malon was dead, and Sheik was still here. The rage had been boiling just beneath the surface for the past two weeks, rage that hadn't found an outlet until now. And it served Sheik right, either way. It was blatantly obvious Link didn't appreciate his company, didn't like talking with him, and yet there he was, screwing everything over again. Link didn't understand why Sheik constantly sought him out. Did the other enjoy being hated? Did he enjoy making Link miserable?

"Maybe I do," Sheik answered tightly, his eyes once again too close, too bright, too red. Link swore vehemently, throwing a hand up over his face, cutting off access to his thoughts.

"Stay the hell out of my head," Link hissed, removing his hand to stare at the ground, at the grass between their knees — and why the fuck was Sheik so close again?

"Or maybe," the Sheikah went on softly, looking up at the sky, "I'm just repenting."

"Repent _outside_ of my head." Link wiggled away, this time stretching his legs out as if to ward Sheik off. "What's your problem, anyways? Enjoy digging through people's minds?"

Sheik's eyes hardened. Then, as if contemplating this, he frowned, or at least, Link thought he did. "No…" The other man trailed off, sounding bemused. "Just yours."

They fell silent, with Link staring at Sheik cautiously and Sheik staring at the ocarina pensively. Nearby, the cuckoos quietly clucked as they nestled together, feathers fluffing against one another.

"Queen Zelda could return the Royal Family's ocarina to you," suddenly proposed Sheik, sounding hopeful.

"Does sentimental value mean anything to you?" retorted Link. "You can't just replace Saria's ocarina, asshole."

For a minute, Link was certain Sheik was going to slug him. The visible portion of the Sheikah's face was contorted with fury and his red orbs were absolutely _livid_. The distinct tightening of Sheik's right cheek also implied that the man was clenching his jaw.

"Why do you insist on making this so difficult?" demanded Sheik, hands curled into fists.

"Making _what_ difficult? This excuse for conversation?" Link laughed loudly, but it was a harsh, acrid noise that made him flinch. "You'll have to forgive me. _Growing up_, I was never taught good etiquette."

"You've changed," noted Sheik, his tone steely, as he glared at Link. "You're allowing your resentment and bitterness to blind you."

"Nothing blinds me," Link replied darkly. "But sometimes, I wonder how you can see past all the blood staining your hands."

Sheik stood brusquely, nearly knocking Link over. "You're a fool," he snapped, body taunt with tension. But he still didn't leave. He was still there, staring at Link.

"What do you _want_?" insisted Link, spreading his hands out helplessly. "Why did you come in the first place? Why are you still here? If you have something to say, just say it!"

"I like listening to you play."

Link blinked owlishly, his mouth clicking shut, and looked up at Sheik. A retort was budding on his tongue, but he swallowed it down when he noticed the sincere expression on the other's face. He could feel heat begin to creep up his neck and dropped his eyes, poking the ocarina distractedly. "Uh…yeah, well. Thanks, I guess, but…" He gestured to the ocarina pointedly, shrugging his shoulders.

For the fourth time that night, Sheik invaded his personal space, sitting on his haunches over Link's legs, reaching out silently to pick up the pieces of the ocarina. Link made a strangled, choked noise, leaning back even as Sheik sighed softly and leaned forward.

"…I could…try and fix it," the Sheikah whispered, sounding tentative, uncomfortable. "If…you would let me."

"Okay," Link whispered back, gulping.

Two hands, wrapped and bandaged, gingerly held the two ocarina halves apart, and Sheik, closing his eyes (much to Link's relief), began murmuring words that made absolutely no sense to the Hero.

In fact, Link wasn't paying much attention to his ocarina or Sheik's mumblings. He was more concerned with the realization that Sheik was _straddling him_. He could feel the warmth of the Sheikah's body seeping into his own clothes, radiating from the man's ankles and calves, which were pressed up against Link's thighs. He considered throwing Sheik off, but before he could put the idea into action, the ocarina was pushed into his face.

"Here."

It was repaired. Not even the crack was visible.

Link stared at it, wide-eyed and gaping, before nearly cracking his neck to look up at Sheik. "Thanks," he breathed, shocked. Suddenly, he regretted their previous conversation. Regretted being so childish and…and…his ocarina was fixed! Joy fluttered in his chest, and he hurriedly stood up, slamming his head into Sheik's chin. The two men cursed, Sheik rolling to his feet and cradling his jaw, and Link falling back down, rubbing his forehead.

"Fuck that hurt!"

"Eloquent as always, Hero."

"Oh, shuddup, you creep."

They paused. Somehow, Link's words had lacked the venom and conviction to be credible. In all truth, they had almost come out…fondly. Link's face screwed up in puzzlement, his nose wrinkling, and Sheik smiled slightly behind his cowl. He walked over, his eyes bright, and held out a hand to Link. The Hero, sighing, accepted and let Sheik pull him up, still rubbing his head.

"Hey, thanks," Link said again, shuffling awkwardly. "You…you didn't have to fix it. It wasn't your fault."

Sheik regarded him silently before shrugging. "Maybe I was attempting this _good deed_ business."

Link looked up sharply, his expression closed, remorseful, but Sheik grinned, and any apology on the Hero's lips for his previous words disappeared.

"But unfortunately for you, I _am_ expecting some kind of payment," the Sheikah continued, his grin evolving into a wide smirk when Link groaned.

"Should've known," Link sighed again, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine. What do you want?"

Sheik's smirk faded as his face softened, replaced with a sad smile. "I wouldn't mind listening to you play the ocarina…just once more."

So Link played, and as the dawn approached, sending spirals of pinks and purples racing through the sky, Sheik began to play as well. And Link forgot that he was sitting across from Malon's murderer, forgot that he should hate this man. He became lost in memories, memories of a time when he had trusted Sheik, when Sheik had been one of his only friends in a dark, dying world, when he had played together with Sheik and everything had been _okay_.

But Link couldn't help but think, as he felt himself grow drowsy listening to the melodic harp, that everything might be okay after all.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Author's Notes: **Review please!


	3. three

**Judgment Days**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.

**Warnings:** Language, light violence

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** Thank you everyone for your kind reviews! Now, for chapter three! I hope you enjoy!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter Three:**

_**The Spaces Between Dream and Reality**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

There were nights, when the cold, graceful moon had risen high into the black sky, that Link struggled to distinguish wishful thinking from painful truth. Nights where he would pry the quill from Zelda's strong hand, gently pick her up in his weary arms, and tenderly carry her to her bed. Nights where he woke, screams threatening to burst from his aching chest, his body swathed in glittering sweat, blue eyes wide and wild. Nights where he would sit contemplatively on the roof, his only companion a repaired ocarina and, on the rare occasion, a broken Sheikah.

When he would carefully set down the slumbering queen, he'd sentimentally brush his calloused fingers along her smooth, porcelain white cheek and feverishly wonder if he had dreamt the war, for what evil could have ever touched such a breathtaking woman? He would draw the thick, colorful quilts over her recumbent body, affectionately caring for her as no one had cared for him and, watching the serene, peaceful expression on Zelda's face, had known that a man such as Ganondorf could never have existed.

When he would finally manage to swallow down his terrified screams, his overwhelming urge to gasp for help, the all-consuming fear, he would fumble clumsily with blind hands beneath his bed, trembling fiercely. After finding it, he would draw the sheath of the Master Sword to his chest and frenetically wonder how the people of Hyrule had managed to forget when, behind his closed eyelids, the war continued to rage on, bloody and violent and real. He would lay down, body still quivering, and, cradling the scabbard of the precious blade to him desperately, had known that he'd never forget the stain of evil Ganondorf had left.

When he felt the careless, sighing breeze whispering on his cool skin and then the smoldering, burning heat of Sheik's body sitting next to his, he would stare forward, not quite sure if he was looking at something or for something. He would listen to the stillness and tranquility of the village, lulling him in the same pacifying way the Sheikah's harp did, and, gazing up into the star lit skies, had known that maybe he'd never know anything, because there were sharp edges and soft bends in his life, and the space between his dreams and reality had been haphazardly eroded until everything had bled into the gray.

But sometimes, life wasn't gray, and sometimes, Link's nightmares were his reality, and so he found himself, playing witness to a scene that had run rampant through his sleepless nights. Before him, stretched out lifelessly on the white linen, Zelda was dying.

"Do you hear me, lad?" the healer croaked. Her voice, hoarse and dry with age, was a rough whisper in the hushed buzzing of the room, so soft that it was almost lost in the nervous, anxious chatter of the villagers in the back. As she slowly hobbled over, her cane rapping loudly against the hardwood floors, she continued speaking, her weathered, cracked lips twisted into a worried frown. "Once it's removed from the cavern it'll begin to wilt and die. You'll have an hour before it'll become useless. Understand?"

Link tenderly brushed the sweat damp locks of hair from Zelda's flushed face, his trembling fingers grazing along her hot, feverish skin, and nodded once curtly, his expression closed and his eyes hard. "Yes," he replied, his tone cool. "I understand."

"You'll need to keep an eye out though, uh, sir," tentatively advised one of the young men from the village, his hands edgily picking at the front of his leather jerkin as he spoke. Shifting from foot to foot, he glanced at his fellows for encouragement when Link did not acknowledge him. "Er…the Gorons've been complaining about some monsters near the summit. Don't know how safe the journey up Death Mountain's gonna be, yeah?"

"Assuredly safer than dueling one-on-one with Ganondorf," nonchalantly pointed out Sheik, turning away from the window to lean against the wall, a slender eyebrow cocked at the youth who had spoken.

Now a tense, panicky silence descended like a thick, suffocating curtain upon the poor villagers, a silence derived solely from an inexplicable fear of a name, the name of just a man. Some skirted away from Sheik while others remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed with terror, caught in an awful web of horrible memories and burning, dreadful nightmares. With a strange, quiet fire in his eyes, Sheik watched them, his demeanor dark — almost sinister — before he abruptly returned to dispassionately gazing out the window. Though his expression was carefully blank, his fingers tightly grasped the wooden pane until it groaned in protest, his knuckles a bloodless, angry white.

And outside, the village children, so wonderfully oblivious, screeched with laughter as they chased the loose cuckoos with juvenile ecstasy. From the window, Sheik's eyes followed their little escapade with a shadowed sharpness that was nothing short of condemnation.

The sound of wood scraping against wood startled most present in the small, cramped room as Link wordlessly pushed back his chair and stood in one fluid, graceful movement. He remained partially bent over Zelda, a hand resting on the headboard, and studied her for a moment, ignoring the dozen or so pairs of eyes locked on him. The villagers regarded him distraughtly with silent, pleading desperation in their hopeful eyes, but their hero's back was turned to them, and he didn't bother to offer them condolences.

Link walked towards them, his eyes cold and remote, and did not acknowledge Sheik when he passed by the man. As he approached, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched, the villagers shook with anticipation. Like lambs to the slaughter.

"I-I'll come with you!" cried a young woman, her chestnut hair bouncing along her shoulders as she lurched forward. The new gold ring on her left hand gleamed wickedly in the dim lighting of the room as she moved, alight with all the unbreakable oaths that had been sworn over it. Her light gray eyes captured Link's startled winter blue and held them determinedly, her lips twisted into a fierce grimace. "I've studied swordplay from the soldiers! I can help you!"

In her curled fist, the gold band dug into her skin accusingly.

"Aye, same here, boy!" bellowed the boss of the carpenters, his deep, resonating voice gruff. He folded his arms over his chest staring down his nose at the hero. "Me and my men will accompany you!" He elbowed one of his subordinates in the chest pointedly.

"B-But s-sir…!" hoarsely protested one of the carpenters, Shiro. He swallowed heavily, eyes wide with mortification as he exchanged alarmed glances with his young wife. As one, they unconsciously looked down, their eyes sweeping over the swollen bump of her stomach.

"Yes," agreed Anju in her soft murmuring voice, hands folded before her as she implored Link with her bright eyes. She chewed on her lip for a moment before she went on, hesitant. "If we all went together…then we could — "

"No. Absolutely not." Sheik's words, viciously spurning, stung the villagers, and they recoiled as if physically reprimanded. They eyed him cautiously, yet he continued to stare outside, his expression distant.

"But…we have to help," mumbled one of the villagers in a low, miserable undertone. "We can't just…sit here and wait. The queen…" The men and women shifted their eyes to settle on Zelda's still, unmoving body on the bed.

Link brushed by them silently, eyes locked ahead, and they reverently shuffled out of his way. He paused at the door, hand on the frame, before he spoke, his voice quiet. "Sorry." The door slammed shut behind him.

The healer glared after him and muttered in annoyance where she was bent over Queen Zelda, but the room was otherwise silent as the villagers stared, wide-eyed and surprised, where Link had stood moments before. And then, when they realized what had just transpired, they sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Link," whispered Anju, and she smiled sadly.

No one heard Sheik leave.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sunlight filtered through the old, worn shutters, brightly illuminating the otherwise dark and empty house with a cheery warmth that failed to thaw Link's dark, troubled mood. He slowly walked over to the large, round table in the center of the room, his movements stirring the dust coating the hardwood floors, and it rolled heavily over his feet. Impassive, he examined the disarray of scrolls and books on the table, reaching out to pick up a letter that had been abandoned on the very top of Zelda's work.

"_Zelda,_

_Thanks for not exploiting the mind connection we share; my people and I have suffered too long from the hypnotism of the witch sisters. Our minds aren't playthings to be toyed with anymore. Anyway, I agree to your proposition, but we'll need to push back the date. One of the women is nine months pregnant, and she'll be the first to give birth to a child in the past six years. Maybe it'll sound strange to you Hylians, but it'll be a day of celebration for us. Write me back with a new time for the arrangement — as long as it's at least a month later then what you proposed. Tell the kid I said that he'd better get his scrawny butt down here to teach my women a thing or two about proper archery._

_ Nabooru"_

The letter was dated August 20th. It was now September 9th.

Outside, the wind chime pealed quietly, a housewarming gift from the organ grinder in the windmill, reminding Link that he did not have the time to spare brooding. Dropping the piece of parchment back onto the table, he jogged up the creaking stairs, taking them two at a time in his haste. He paused at the second floor, his mouth a tight, grim line, and regarded Zelda's tidy, made bed in the corner with a strange fluttering in his stomach. That bed hadn't been slept in, he knew, for nearly two weeks.

Sitting down on his own bed, he pulled off the sharp, freshly polished boots with a look of disgust, and chucked them unceremoniously behind him, ignoring the loud thump they made against the wall. He was in the midst of yanking the dressy white tunic over his head when the front door opened and shut, but Link didn't bother checking who it was, not when he could feel that dark, slanted gaze burning into his bare back between his shoulder blades. Searching for more travel-worthy clothes, Link fished about in his bureau and began throwing on whatever of his old outfit he managed to find. When he turned around, dressed only in his leggings and long-sleeve undershirt, his forest green tunic was promptly shoved in his face. Sheik was wearing his normally bored and condescending expression.

Accepting the tunic, Link wordlessly pulled it on, scowling. A minute later, while he was in the process of clasping the belt around his waist, one of Sheik's arms slipped under his own, while the other draped itself over Link's broad shoulder. Stiffening, Link resisted the urge to lunge away while Sheik did the buckle of his baldric, and when the young man backed off, Link's shield and sword were now resting against his back comfortably.

"So," began Link tightly, rolling his shoulders and fixing the clasp on the too-tight baldric — was he growing again? "Any reason why no one thought to come get me sooner?" They walked down the stairs together, their arms brushing and Sheik's footsteps smothered in the loud tramping of Link's. The Sheikah was examining him thoughtfully, and didn't reply as they left Impa's house. Annoyed and impatient, Link felt the loose connection he had gradually been building with the other man over the past few weeks disappearing quickly. "Alright then, how about telling me why you have the right to refuse the villagers and then decide to come yourself? Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical? What makes _you_ so different from all of them?"

This time, Sheik answered him. "Besides the obvious point that I am _actually_ capable of defending myself and helping you _without_ getting the both of us killed?" There was a dark note of humor in his voice that Link didn't appreciate. "Why? Are you trying to suggest you can manage this on your own for once and that you don't need my assistance, Hero — "

In a flash of strength and swiftness that caught the Sheikah off guard, he was roughly slammed into the solid, brick wall of the shooting gallery, his head connecting with the hard surface painfully. Hissing in surprise and disorientation, he was jerked forward into Link, crammed between the warrior and the building.

"Don't push me," Link snarled softly, shoving his face into the smaller man's, their foreheads pushing against each other in a tangle of mussed blonde hair and sweaty skin as Link fought forward and Sheik struggled away. "I am _very_ close to my breaking point, Sheik."

Sheik eyed the man before him closely and, as if seeing the truth of Link's words in his cold, blue eyes, he nodded silently. He was abruptly released.

"She's dying," Link said suddenly, his face blank. It sounded like a question.

"Yes," Sheik agreed quietly, because no one else was there to.

"She's dying, and I should have been here."

"You're here now."

"She's _dying_."

"Yes."

"Why?" This question, the question of a fearful, vulnerable child, was whispered harshly.

"Why does anyone die, Link?" asked Sheik in return, slowly standing and coming near. As Link began to shake his head in denial, Sheik grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. "Listen to me. You can't fight every battle, Link. Especially not against the nature of life."

"But you said life would go on, and that so would we!" cried Link urgently, his face beginning to crack underneath its mask of indifference. "The war is over! So why does she die?!"

"She dies, Link, because she is mortal. Don't believe that, in defeating Ganondorf, you defeated death." Sheik drew Link further into the village, lightly tugging on his arm. Then, frowning, he glanced up into the Hero's distressed face. "The King did not inform you — ?"

"No," Link interrupted darkly, furious. "Neither King Zora nor Ruto told me. And they knew, didn't they?"

"We sent word, of course, that Queen Zelda was ill, yes, but it wasn't that pressing of a concern at the time. It was only last night that she…" He paused, seemingly cutting off the rest for Link's sake, and then continued. "…I thought it was odd you hadn't returned."

"You shouldn't have come for me," Link muttered absently, and they passed through the gates, now walking up the steep, precarious path to Death Mountain. "You should have gone and gotten the plant last night. Why didn't you? I…I know you're more than capable of doing this yourself."

A dangerous silence was dragged out, and Link, blinking, turned to see a strange expression on the Sheikah's face.

"I can guarantee you, Hero," murmured Sheik, red eyes burning, "that they would have never accepted the herb had I touched it, should their queen be dying or not."

Link knew it was true.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Unfortunately for Link and Sheik, after the war, Darunia had taken it upon himself to ensure that none would ever venture into the treacherous, deadly Fire Temple again by collapsing the rock wall above the entrance. While it would certainly prevent anyone from descending into the dark, ancient depths it also, to Link's utmost annoyance, created a pocket of unreleased, boiling heat beneath the surface of the crater. Entering the cavern had been like walking into a solid wall of red-hot fire, and almost immediately, their boots had begun to hiss and sizzle beneath them.

"This explains much," Sheik mused, absently tugging at his cowl, sweat visibly sliding down his forehead. They walked sluggishly, the heat a firm, unyielding weight pulling them down, and Link soon began to remove various articles of clothing, fanning himself with his hat and regarding Sheik through heavy-lidded, squinted eyes.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Now that the heat is rising at such a high temperature, this crater is no longer suitable for monsters to live in comfortably," the Sheikah patiently elaborated, brushing his thick bangs from his face, "which explains why there have been so many sightings and attacks on the Death Mountain."

"We should probably tell Darunia that," remarked Link gruffly, wiping the stinging sweat from his eyes with his sleeve. "Damn, it's hot in here. How you doing? Are you alright wearing that?" he asked his companion worriedly, eyebrows raised as he glanced at the tight, skin-fitting outfit Sheik always seemed to wear.

"I'll be perfectly fine," the other man flatly reassured him, and Link, sensing a touch of sudden hostility and defensiveness, quickly backed off and just shrugged a shoulder in reply.

They were silent for the next half an hour as they scouted the area for the plant the healer had described to them. It was eventually Sheik who spotted it first, calling out to Link and pointing to a high ledge a good hundred feet up off the ground. They'd argued then, Link insistently snapping that Sheik wasn't physically prepared to scale the wall of burning rock, and Sheik persistently hissing that he was bloody well prepared, thank you. In the end, Sheik had finally acquiesced to Link's hard-headed stubbornness. And, not even twenty minutes later —

"You need to rest!" shouted Sheik over the roar of the popping lava and the fuming lava. There was a helpless frustration in his voice that surprised Link enough that the young man glanced over his shoulder and down at the Sheikah. "Come back! It's pointless to wear yourself out like this!"

"Shuddup!" Link struggled on, the leather of his gauntlets burning terribly as he continued to scale the hot ledge. Sweat rolled down his skin from every pore, and Link reasoned that, even with the Goron's tunic on, he was going to catch on fire soon. Very soon. Stretching an arm up for something to grab onto, he lost his footing and slid down at least ten feet, much to the horror of his companion on the sidelines.

"You reckless idiot!"

"I told you to shuddup!"

"Stop climbing and come _back down_! The old woman _told_ you that they will not be able to administer the potion until midnight either way! You're going to kill yourself in this misguided act of heroism!"

"If you don't shuddup, I'm going to start chucking rocks at you, asshole!" Link blinked owlishly, and did a double-take. "Are you _pacing_?" he asked incredulously, eyebrows high into his hairline as he watched Sheik freeze from his frenetic dance.

"Hardly!" the Sheikah lied, scowling up at Link fiercely, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his expression guarded and closed. "I'm only trying to gauge where it'd be best for me to stand when you come crashing down and kill yourself. I wouldn't want you to take me with you, after all." Despite the words, Link didn't detect any malice or conviction. He thought that was strange; Sheik wasn't one to not mean what he said.

"I'm not gonna fall!" he yelled, examining his next move thoughtfully. "I'll be fine once you stop distracting me!" He highly doubted it. There was this strange burning cold spreading from his feet up his legs, and he knew it wasn't a good sign.

Up ahead, Link could see the plant, and while he _knew_ it was Zelda's only chance for recovery, he was already adverse to touching it. It peeked out over the ledge where it grew, a dark, reddish-black flower with inverted petals and protruding, glistening black thorns. Swallowing heavily, he eyed the plant and called down to his companion. "Hey, uh, Sheik? Did the healer say anything about the plant…being poisonous?" His fingers, slick with sweat, slipped over the rock he was precariously hanging to, and he cursed softly, struggling for a better hold.

"I…I don't believe so, no!" But there was a panicky, uncertain nuance to Sheik's tone, and Link found himself growing apprehensive about this whole business. Wait, panicky? Peering back down, Link saw that, yet again, Sheik was anxiously pacing and watching him with dark, red eyes. If the Hero didn't know better, he would have sworn that Sheik almost appeared to be worried. But that was ridiculous. Why would Sheik be worried? About Link, of all people?

Mulling over this new information, Link devised a quick, tentative plan to determine if Sheik truly was concerned, and, smirking briefly, he silently pushed off from the wall, somersaulting backwards, a scythe tumbling through the air. Immediately, Sheik cried out in alarm and genuine fear a good hundred feet below and Link, satisfied, ripped out his longshot, aiming carelessly before firing. The chain buzzed through the heavy heat and, exploding into a wall of rock right above the desired ledge, yanked Link up through the air a second later.

"When you get back down here," Sheik was furiously snarling, his eyes blazing with rage, "rest assured, _Hero_, that I _will_ kill you!"

Seated uncomfortably on the hot ledge with his legs dangling over the side, Link just regarded his companion thoughtfully, the plant resting in his lap alongside of his trusted longshot. Even when the Sheikah demanded he return to the ground, he could only stare in doubtful perplexity.

Because he just couldn't understand why Sheik _cared_.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Oh yes, she'll be fine," the healer verified with a curt nod. "In fact, lad, the herb was much more potent than I thought. Her stomach is still very weak, but she will, undoubtedly, recover her strength in the next week or so. You, on the other hand…" She scowled, her eyes buried under all the heavy layers of skin and wrinkles, and waved her cane in the air like a distress signal. "Second degree burns all over your legs and arms! You're lucky those didn't develop into third degree, young man! Hasn't anyone told you how reckless you are?!"

Link sighed at the smug, pointed expression on Sheik's face from where the Sheikah was stealthily concealed in the shifting shadows of the room's rafters. Sitting on his haunches, he leaned against one of the wooden beams and watched the Hero from above, his elbows resting on his knees comfortably. "Not recently, no," Link lied, his lips quirked.

"Hmph! I'll be back in an hour to reapply the salve. Until then, lad, you had better not move an inch, or so help me, I'll cane you!" And Link knew she would, too. He shuddered.

When the door swung shut behind the old woman, Sheik silently dropped to the ground, landing on all fours gracefully before he fluidly stood, regarding Link. Wordlessly, he approached the bed Link was apparently prisoner to and leaned his back up against the wall by the headboard.

"What?" demanded Link, embarrassed. "You want to rub it in? I…I know you were right, okay? So just shove off and — "

"I'm different from them in the sense that I don't have anything, or anybody, to lose."

"I — uh, what?" stuttered Link intelligently, eyebrows furrowed.

Sheik refused to meet his eye. "You asked me, yesterday morning, why it was that I had the right to accompany when I refused the villagers. You asked…you asked what made me so different from them."

Stunned into silence, Link could only stare up at the Sheikah, his neck turned at an awkward, painful angle that was cramping his muscles. He opened his mouth to say something, but at the clouded, almost aggrieved expression flickering across Sheik's face, he abruptly snapped it shut, frowning. Only just now, Link realized, had he ever really thought of Sheik as an actual human being. Because right now, it had hurt Sheik to admit something as personal as this, and not as an injury to his pride, but to his heart.

Link suddenly understood how little he knew the other man.

"You don't have anything to lose?" he repeated slowly, tasting the words. They were foreign to him; if he had failed, all of Hyrule would have been lost. But, if Sheik had failed…

For a moment, Sheik appeared conflicted, his blood red eyes nervously darting from the ground to the window and then to Link's face in rapid procession. When their eyes met, Sheik moved forward some, looking like he was about to say something, something Link was certain was important, but then he backed away, shaking his head firmly, and the moment was lost. "No," he responded softly, his gaze pulled to the window. "I fight because there is nothing that binds me to this life. There is nothing, and no one, that ties me, wills me, to live. If I were to die…" His voice was tight and his body stiff.

"What about Queen Zelda?" asked the Hero wearily. "Aren't you bound to _her_?"

Sheik's eyes snapped from the window to Link instantly, alight with a shade, just a sliver, of hope. Gradually, he pushed himself off of the wall to completely face the recumbent blonde, giving Link his full attention. "…What are you talking about?"

"Yeah," Link continued, thinking aloud. "You _are_ bound to her, aren't you? You're bound by her trust and her friendship. You're bound by the duty Impa left to you — to protect the queen." Link yawned widely, his eyes slipping shut in exhaustion and fatigue. "Zelda _needs_ you."

Silence.

Pressure by his hip, and Link's eyes opened, only to find that Sheik was now sitting on the bed, staring at him intensely with an expression of wonder, incredulity. Self-conscious under the weight of that gaze, Link nervously fidgeted, only to groan in pain as his burns rubbed against the bandages and sheets. Wincing, he glanced up, but Sheik was still looking at him, and suddenly, Link felt obligated to say it, _knew_ he had to say it, because it was on the tip of his tongue, and…well…

"You're bound to me too," he murmured, quiet. It felt weird admitting it, but then again, it was ever weirder watching the flash of startled emotion paint Sheik's normally impassive face, the way his eyes widened even as his pupils contracted. "We agreed remember?" Link continued, feeling his ears heat up and feeling like he had to clarify just _how_ they were bound, in case Sheik was wondering. "We're going to rebuild Hyrule together, right?"

Finally, the intensity with which Sheik had been staring at him disappeared, and the young man snorted. "You forget that, while agreeing to work together with me, you politely informed me that you would _always_ hate me," Sheik dryly remarked, an eyebrow cocked. Yet, his face didn't mirror his sarcasm — it was lit with an expectant, wishful terror. And Link knew what Sheik wanted to hear.

So he said it. "I don't hate you." Because it was the truth. Because he meant it. Because he was trying to find that line again, the line between his dreams and reality, and he knew, finally, that he was slowly getting closer.

Sheik's smile told him that much.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** Please feed me! I'm a review whore! xD


	4. four

**Judgment Days**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.

**Warnings:** Language, violence, disturbing images

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** Wow! A lot of really encouraging reviews! Thank you everyone for taking the time to comment on the story! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter Four:**

_**our own world**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The hearty, rich laughter resounded loudly throughout the humming village, the ground shivering beneath the onslaught of heavy, pounding feet as partners waltzed carelessly. Paper lanterns hung from the roofs of the houses and shops, resembling bright, glowing fairies in the dark, cloudless night, brilliantly illuminating the joyful, ecstatic scene. Children shrieked in exhilaration, weaseling their way through the thick, cramped crowds and running unchallenged throughout the village. Energetic music rang out from a hastily thrown together orchestra of drum-playing Gorons, harp-plucking Zora, and pipe-whistling Hylians, thrumming in the air of Kakariko like a lit fuse.

Caked in dried, peeling mud and fresh, earthy dirt, Link could only stare in dumbstruck horror atop the exhausted, sweaty Epona. At a loss for words, he just continued to gape, his stomach bubbling with anxiety at the sight of so many people, a hysterical sense of claustrophobia rising within him. There was a desperate, terrible need in him to escape, to lick his wounds, to try and bury the memories of the past three days in the darkest, deepest pit in his mind, but now… Shaking, Link realized he wouldn't have the chance to mentally compose himself before having to face others. Leaning backwards, he tugged sharply on Epona's mane, silently urging her to turn around, to take him far, far away from this place. Unfortunately, the weary horse was only thinking about resting, and gingerly began to stride forward, much to her rider's dismay.

"I don't think I can do this right now," Link admitted weakly to no one, shoulders hunched defensively. "I really, really don't."

As they approached the outskirts of the village, Link spotted a young Zora standing off from the crowds and, recognizing perhaps his only chance to glean some information, he swiftly guided Epona over, his hand grasping the pommel of the saddle as if he were considering vaulting off. "What's going on?" he asked quietly, his winter blue eyes wide as he slowly dismounted. "What's this celebration for?"

Her dark, black eyes swept quickly over his features before she did a double take, fully turning around to face him. "Ah, you're the one they call Link, aren't you?" Her voice was melodious and smooth, gliding over him with an almost careless, dispassionate air, and Link suffered from a moment of déjà vu, recalling the first time he had met Princess Ruto. "Well, it would seem strange that you of all people aren't familiar with the occasion," she continued without waiting for an answer, tossing her head superciliously. Link, however, wasn't going to be so easily goaded, and remained expectantly silent. Glancing at him, the Zora sighed histrionically and leaned up against the gates. "Why, it's your namesake's birthday, of course."

Namesake? His eyebrows knitting together in confusion, Link stared at the Zora uncomprehendingly before, with a pang of wrenching guilt, he remembered. "Prince Link!" he murmured to himself, cringing; he'd forgotten his godson's birthday!

"Yes," she drawled, looking bored with the whole business. "The little Goron boy." Her expression changed, and now her eyes were sharp with a keen, probing interest that raised Link's hackles. "Is there any particular reason, Sir Hero, why you're covered head-to-toe in filth?"

"Thank you for your time," Link said flatly, lips tight. Stiffly, he moved past her, ignoring the suspicious curiosity that was painted on her delicate, pretty features. In the corner of his mind, he vaguely reasoned that she was from the Domain — no Zora from Lake Hylia was that jaded. Leading Epona further into Kakariko, he wondered if the girl had just recently completed her coming of age ritual with Lord Jabu-Jabu; it would certainly explain her childish, ignorant self-importance.

Music washed over him, wave after wave, and brightly twisting colors popped in and out of sight as heavy skirts whirled around lithe, quickly moving legs. It was almost physically painful to watch. Bright, radiant smiles, cheery, light laughter, teasing women and ardent men. They were happy. All of them.

The mud plastered along the right side of his face had hardened to the point where his skin stung, and he moved slowly, rigidly, head bowed and eyes trained on the ground. A few Gorons and villagers valiantly attempted to slow him up, to flag him down and properly greet him, but Link managed to disappear before they could reach him, Epona obediently trotting alongside him. Finally, he managed to escape the flocks of people, sliding the stable doors shut behind him. Epona eagerly entered her stall without his guidance, shaking herself out and waiting impatiently. Whispering a few thankful words to her, he tossed her feed into her stall and fondly stroked her thick, muscled neck before leaving, hoping to return to Impa's house and sleep off the next week.

"Would you care to dance?" He hadn't even taken five steps beyond the stable. Feeling like he was going to be sick, Link turned, regarding the young Hylian girl peering up at him from behind bushy, brown bangs, her hands nervously twisting behind her back. When their eyes met, she smiled tentatively, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She didn't even seem to notice his disgusting state, or the mud that swathed every inch of his visible skin. Noticing the look on his face, her eyes, a hazel color, widened and she leaned forward, sensing his rejection. "Please, Mr. Link," she pleaded in a honey-coated voice, a voice he didn't think suited a girl barely fifteen.

"…But, I…"

"Just one? I promise that I won't step on your feet. I'm quite a good dancer." It wasn't _his_ feet he was worried about.

"Miss, I'll just get you dirty, and — "

"Oh! I don't mind! Come on!" The thing was, _he_ minded, but he allowed her to take his hand, which was too big for hers to clasp properly, so she settled for tugging on his fingers instead. Just as they were entering the throng, a strange, familiar feeling burned into his back, and, instincts kicking in, he flew around wildly, dragging the poor girl with him. Eyes wide and panicked, he scanned the rooftops, his neck prickling warningly. He saw no one.

"Uh…um, what's wrong?" she asked him in concern and confusion, flinching a bit as his hand tightened around hers.

"Someone…someone was watching — " He abruptly broke off, glancing down and seeing how white her face was. Horrified, he released her and she sighed in relief, massaging the abused appendage while staring at the ground, her lip trembling. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean…I…"

"I'm fine," she lied, smiling weakly at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Really, I'm fine." She reached out to him with her other hand, hopeful, but he stumbled backward, shaking his head violently.

"No, no. This is a mistake. I-I need to go, to get out of here — "

"B-But, we've only just started!" she protested, and now she _was_ crying, and Link realized that he was the reason behind her tears. "Oh, please? All I've ever wanted…I just…_please_? I was l-looking for you earlier, b-but, I couldn't…and now…"

It was surreal. Here he was, standing in a circle with no end and no beginning, a circle with bright skirts and laughter in voices, and he was in the middle, stuck, trying to find a place to join in, to find his place. These people lived in their own world, a world he was bereft of, had no place in because he carried too much over from the war, too many memories, too many scars, too much grief, too much rage. He'd been struggling to forget, to wipe the slate clean, but Ganondorf had been the focal point of his life for far too long, and old habits, as they say, die hard. Yet, all around him, happiness blossomed. Why couldn't he be part of it? Why was he so dissatisfied with how everything had turned out? There was something lacking, something that was so close, and he knew he was overlooking it…what was it?

He glanced down at the girl, and he suddenly knew. Her eyes were speaking to him, even as her mouth betrayed her into silence, and he read there a foreign emotion that was swallowing her, consuming her. She _loved_ him. It was there, right on her sleeve, and it was an honest, hero-worshipping love that she probably didn't understand, and neither did he. But he could almost hear what Sheik would have said — "_Why does anyone love, Link_?_ It's not something you can conquer, but be conquered by._" And maybe he would have been right, because Link loved the mother he didn't remember and didn't know why. Link didn't understand, didn't _know,_ love, but he did understand, _knew_, that that was what was missing.

That's how these people had done it. It's how they had forgotten.

"What am I doing here?" he wondered, his voice faint, and the girl started, having been in the middle of begging him to continue dancing with her. "I'm not part of this world, of these people. Why…what _am_ I doing here?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"I need to leave, I need to go. It's not here…"

"What? What are you talking about, Mr. Link? Are you okay?"

"I need to _get out_. Somewhere far away, somewhere where I — "

" — But I don't understand! What are you talking about? Please, tell me!"

"Excuse me," a smooth, soft voice cut in sharply. "If you would permit me, I would like to steal your partner for a dance." A hand on his elbow, and he was being pulled backwards, away from the shocked, gaping girl and further into the bustling crowd, where he was jostled and bumped into repeatedly. Escorting him was none other than the Queen herself, dressed simply in a white frock and gray leggings, her usual circlet holding her hair back absent. Together, they walked hurriedly through the masses, Zelda politely excusing them and patiently going around passionately dancing couples, and before long, they had made it to the other side. Her hand dropping to his, she guided him over to the gates, where he had spoken to the young Zora girl, and faced him by the single, naked tree.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, her sapphire eyes dark with an anger he wasn't familiar with. "Goddesses Link! Three days! You've been missing for _three_ whole days! And, and — and you're covered in mud! Allow me to rephrase my question. _What_ have you been doing?"

There were deep, purple circles under Zelda's bloodshot eyes, and Link had never felt so selfish in his life. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make you worry, Zelda." He swayed precariously, drained and dizzy, and her hand shot out, steadying him, her anger softening into concern.

Quietly, Zelda studied him, frowning slightly. "I know," she replied, reaching up and unconsciously brushing the bangs from his face with motherly affection. Rolling back on her heels, she crossed her arms across her chest and sighed. "I know. Just, please, tell me next time you decide to leave, okay? I understand that…that you have an itch to wander, to travel, and that's fine. But, please, don't leave without telling anyone again. I worry about you, Link. I truly do." They stood silently together on the outer edge of Kakariko, of the joy and merriness taking place a few yards away. Link wanted to explain himself, wanted to deny the insinuation that he was bored here, but couldn't without thinking about the past three days.

…And really? It was time to let go.

"That was Sheik then, wasn't it?" asked Link suddenly, reaching back to absently rub his neck, remembering the smoldering glare he'd felt earlier. "I thought I had felt someone watching me."

Zelda nodded. "Yes, that was Sheik. He spotted you first, and informed me of your return."

"Seeing how you were obviously disinclined to do so yourself," added Sheik vehemently, and both Link and Zelda jumped in alarm, whirling around simultaneously. Link's hand even made it halfway up his shoulder before he remembered the Master Sword was no longer a comforting presence on his back. The Sheikah stalked over to them, and the Hero could feel the fury pullulating from the smaller man. "What were you _thinking_? Did you ever stop to even _consider_ what _we_ might have thought had happened?"

Anger directed at him from Zelda was one thing. Anger directed at him from Sheik just pissed him off. There was a voice trying to claw its way up his throat, desperate to spit out a few well-chosen words that'd hit well below the belt, that'd keep Sheik up at night, that Link _knew_ were Sheik's weaknesses, because the man deserved it, and who the hell did he think he was, yelling at Link like a child? To use the word "we"? Since when did Sheik count for one of them?

"Sheik," Zelda began tightly, lips tight. "Not now."

Link wondered if this was going to turn into the fight they'd had not even an hour after Ganondorf had been slain. To be honest, the thought excited him.

"Zelda! Link! Sheik!" boomed out the loud, warm voice of Darunia as he and his son strode over proudly, grinning widely at the three of them. He turned to Link, beaming. "Good to see you, Brother! You have not visited our mountain recently!"

"Darunia," Zelda curtly greeted him, inclining her head. "Prince Link."

"Good evening, Chief Darunia," coldly replied Sheik, his fury making his words icy, and Link was surprised to hear his emotions so ill-concealed, especially in the face of the Goron leader.

"Hey, Darunia," finally responded Link, weakly offering them a halfhearted grin that faded rather too quickly to be believed. Sheik, who happened to be standing between Link and Zelda, seemed to grown even more incensed that Link had _spoken_. "Happy birthday, Prince," he congratulated amiably, smiling at Goron Link. His godson brightly returned the smile and waved a chubby, large hand before hiding in his father's shadow.

Undeterred by the lack of warm greeting, Darunia inhaled sharply and stretched out his arms wide. "Beautiful night, isn't it?! The music is amazing, the dancing terrific! What a wonderful party!" Laughing, he put his fists on his hips and seemed to pick up on the tense, edgy mood. "What's wrong with you three? Not enjoying yourselves? Why — Link? What happened to you? You look like you got into a fight with a thousand King Dodongos!" At this, Link's face crumpled, a pained look flashing in his eyes. Behind him, Zelda gestured for Darunia to drop the subject, but the Goron, sensing the disquiet he had created, tried to rectify the situation by making a light joke of it. "Er, perhaps not Dodongos. No, Brother," he laughed, though it sounded strained even to his son. "You…you look like you were…ah…er, grave digging! Ha, yes, grave digging! Visited the Kakariko graveyard, huh?" His tone was teasing, playful, but in seconds, Link's face had turned a sickly grayish-white, and his pupils had contracted into tiny, black slits.

"Yeah," he choked out, shaking. "G-G-Grave digging."

Sheik's eyes widened imperceptibly, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline, and Zelda paled immensely, her hands rising up to her mouth in dawning horror. Both realized exactly what Link had been doing for the past three days.

"I…I have to go," Link muttered, and then he was shoving through all of them, his stomach churning. Darunia called after him, confused and apologetic, and Sheik desperately shouted his name, fearful and distressed, but Link ran, ran all the way back to his house, bowling over would-be partners and some innocently dancing couples in his blinded haste.

Dashing up the stone steps, he lunged for the door and slammed it shut behind him, allowing the cool air inside the house to roll over him before he slid to the floor limply, cradling his head in his dirty, filthy hands and shuddering. He covered his ears, trying to silence the music and happiness outside, but it just floated right through, mocking him.

He would never be part of that world.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Day one. The morning light was achingly heavy, peering over the hills and into the village, enough to tempt the early risers back to bed, but Link had been awake for hours, and the tendrils of sleep did not touch him. An obsession had pulled and tugged at him, haunting his every thought, whispering delicious lies in his head. Paranoid by nature, he had known he wouldn't rest until he saw with his own two eyes, and repeating this mantra mentally, he had slipped out of bed and begun to dress. On the opposite side of the room, Zelda had remained peacefully asleep, her breathing deep and slow, and draped stiffly in the windowsill by her bed, Sheik had dozed off, his head rolled to the side, caught in a precious moment of vulnerability. After Link had silently shut the door to Impa's house behind him, he leaned up against the rough, weatherworn wood and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to imprint the image of the two, tranquil and unguarded, in his memories.

And he had wondered, as he set out with the dawn's light, what he looked like while asleep.

It was still early morning when he and Epona had arrived at Lon Lon Ranch, and Link had almost given into his cowardice right there, prepared to leave, to escape with his sanity, his half-hearted happiness, still intact. But the bare, slender trees nearby had moaned with pain, reminding him that a shadow still lurked over this ranch, a shadow of unfinished business, and he had passed through the black gates.

Epona had reared wildly, nostrils flaring and ears pinned, throwing him off unceremoniously before edgily backing away, pawing the ground and refusing to go forward any further. Rubbing his head, Link had left her by the entrance, wondering if the horse had more common sense than he.

It had been eerily silent. The wind had rippled through the area, playing with loose shutters so that they loudly flapped back and forth, slapping against the house and windows. Riding the strong breeze, crows and Keese had circled the skies, their wings glistening black and vivid against the deep blue. Heady and thick, the scent of old, cooled blood hung in the air, accompanied by the smell of rot and decaying flesh. Link had found himself desperate to join Epona more and more by the minute.

Nailed to the side of the barn, the bodies had been limp and lifeless, broken marionettes with the strings still attached. Written in blood beneath their shoeless feet were the words, "Long Live the King" and Link had found, curiously enough, that meeting the empty, bloody eye sockets of the three was much easier than rereading the message. To the far left, Ingo's body had hung naked and nearly unrecognizable, so beaten and ravaged by the crows was it, but this was no surprise — Ingo had entered a contract with Ganondorf and had failed the false king. There would have been no mercy for him. Link couldn't even imagine what Ganondorf's minions had done to the poor man before they had slit his throat. Next to Ingo, Talon suspended, probably the least damaged of the three. He had been gutted, a quick, simple cleave of some sort of rugged hatchet, and then strung up to bleed to death. His mouth was opened, as if to warn Link off, and when the Hero had made the mistake of moving closer, he had realized that the man's jaws had been hacked apart by the hungry birds, so that only a bloody mass of tissue remained in the gaping orifice.

Link found he was too much a coward to look at Malon, and had immediately set out to carefully extricate the three, doing his damnedest to not further damage the bodies. It took all day to free the corpses and then carry them into the house, carrying on for so long due to the cursed weakness of his churning stomach. Their flesh was hard and slimy against his skin, and he'd dropped them more than once in his growing nausea. That night, he had fetched water from a stream near the ranch and, sitting down on his haunches, spent the next five hours mechanically scrubbing the blood off the walls of the barn, his eyes remote and inward. Even when the sun began to crest, the faint stain of the words had lingered, a warning to all.

Day two. Exhausted, Link had stripped the other two bodies and cleaned all three of them, swallowing past the lump in his throat at the whip marks on Ingo's back and then violently throwing up upon discovering the discolored bruises and dried blood between Malon's legs. Too drained for rage, he had settled for fleeing to their rooms upstairs and throwing himself on the closet bed, still not succumbing to tears, but trying to forget that Sheik had been there, been there when all of this had happened, had eventually been the one to kill not only Malon, but Ingo as well. Words screamed through his mind, incoherent and chaotic, words that sounded like _why didn't you do anything?! Why did you allow this to happen? You stupid, dumb fuck. God, why did I trust you?!_

By the afternoon, after a fitful, unsatisfying steal of sleep, Link had continued preparing the bodies to the best of his inexperienced abilities. Fresh clothes found from bureaus, a roll of bandages in the bathroom cabinet, jewelry stashed under floorboards and perhaps the only to escape the pillage of Sheik's raid party. He even brushed Malon's hair, taking time to comb out all the knots and clumps of dried blood. When he was finished, the three lay in the strewn hay, appearing to be only sleeping beneath the white blindfolds he'd fashioned for them, their wounds and slit throats hidden behind the wrappings and folds of clothes. In a peculiar, calm state of mind, he had lain with them, curled up by Malon's side, and slept.

And that night, when he woke, he had started to dig.

Remains of slaughtered horses littered the field, arrows and knives sticking out of the fly-infested carcasses, a graveyard like Kakariko's. Wearing a stripped piece of cloth around the lower portion of his face, Link had attempted to ignore the smells and the bitter taste of death on his tongue, focusing on burrowing deeper and deeper into the ground.

He hadn't been able to find a shovel.

Day Three. Three body-size graves had been dug out by afternoon, and Link had had to lean up against the fence, too weary to support his own wobbly weight. Colors spun and he saw triples of everything, yet he still managed to make it back to the house, where he solemnly began to half-carry, half-drag, the body of Talon. The process continued until all three corpses lay peacefully in their dirt tombs, hands folded over their stomachs and their clothes smoothed over neatly. Before he could yield to his grief, Link buried them, his heart growing heavier and heavier with every handful of dirt he threw.

It was beautiful out, and sweat had rolled from Link's skin as he sat listlessly by Malon's grave, his chest rising and falling with frenetic speed as he began to hyperventilate. There was something too final about this, he had realized, and, crying out hoarsely, he'd thrown himself onto all fours and frantically dug up the dirt to his friend's grave. Overcome with a morbid horror, he freed her from her prison and pulled her to the surface, cradling her to him and rocking back and forth, sobbing out his heartache. She'd only been a simple, country girl, singing with her lovely voice and smiling her brilliant, radiant smile. Every time he'd visited, Malon had managed to erase the terror and dreadfulness of what he'd seen or done, guiding him back to the path of reason with her understanding eyes. When he had been covered in gore, struggling for his life against ruthless, nightmarish creatures, he had remembered her beautiful face, her pealing laughter, and thought of a life he wouldn't mind sharing with her. He had imagined her, dressed in her mother's wedding gown, holding his hands in hers and promising to hold him through sickness and health. He had imagined a future, happy and peaceful, at her side, working hard on the farm together, good, earnest work and not mindless slaughter, and had thought that nothing could have been more wonderful.

Dusk rolled around, and Link had gently replaced her in her grave, brushing away his tears from her face, and, trembling harshly, had buried her once more. It was time, he knew, to let go and move on.

He'd tripped and stumbled all the way to the entrance of the ranch, covered in mud and dirt, and remembered he hadn't eaten anything for the past three days. Epona had restlessly greeted him, nosing his shoulder apologetically, and it had taken Link four tries to mount, his muscles shaking and giving out beneath him. Disoriented but somehow feeling content, fulfilled, he had allowed Epona to slowly begin the journey back to Kakariko.

Back home.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Oh, he's…ugh, much heavier…than he looks," she panted quietly, cursing.

"Actually, he's _lost_ weight since I've last seen him." Sheik's breath, hot and quick, ghosted across Link's ear and cheek, and goosebumps followed in its wake.

His body left like lead, heavy and useless, and his limbs ached in protest as he struggled to move his fingers and toes, only to find his nerves irresponsive. Still caught in the world between sleep and clarity, his senses were dulled and misleading — he was positive he was in Impa's house, but it took him some time figuring out what was going on. His arms were slung across Zelda and Sheik's shoulders and theirs were curled protectively around his back, holding him up. Both were breathless, and Link dimly realized they were trying to carry him up the stairs, if the accompanying _thump, thump_, _thump_, was any indication. Valiantly, he fought the dark tunnel of sleep, knowing he should be helping them, but as the moments ticked by, he grew sleepy and groggy, losing track of time and space as he dozed in the cradle of their arms.

Voices drifted in and out of his awareness, but this time he was lying on his back in bed, a thick quilt drawn up over him. He felt vaguely empty and drained, as if he'd bleed all of his pent up emotions back at the ranch, and a warm, fluttery feeling spread through his body when he remembered he'd finished what he should have done months ago. He'd finally visited Lon Lon Ranch. He'd buried the bodies, and, he'd mourned.

"He looks _terrible_," Zelda was saying, her voice rough with sorrow. "I can't believe just how…how _stupid_ and _thickheaded _he can be sometimes. I mean…well, do you…do you _really_ think he…?"

"Yes," Sheik responded darkly, his tone tight. "I believe so. You were witness to the expression on his face at Darunia's poor selection of words. I wasn't certain if he was either going to collapse or be sick." The Sheikah sounded angry, but Link could hear the telltale nuance of self-loathing and misery in his soft tenor.

"This isn't your fault, Sheik," Zelda snapped, distressed and annoyed, apparently picking up on the same wavelengths Link could feel, inches from his body. "Don't fall back into yourself again, damnit. I _need_ you here with me. I _need_ you to help me help him."

"He did say that, didn't he?" Sheik mused quietly, and Link felt a hand touch his brow, the fingers resting there. "He told me two weeks ago, when you were ill, that you needed me. That…that _he_ needed me."

"He speaks the truth."

"…I'm beginning to understand that."

Silence washed over Link, and his eyebrows twitched under Sheik's fingers, a light sigh escaping him as he tried to move away. The Sheikah relented, his hand instead dropping to Link's arm, where his long, slender fingers gently rolled down the inside to his wrist and then, finally, his fingers. "All of his nails are torn off," he murmured. "…He dug out the graves with his own two hands."

Zelda cried out, the noise muffled by her hands cupping her face, and Link could hear her dry sobs by the bed. This upset him, but that same content feeling was running through his body, and he couldn't wake enough to comfort her.

"Why?" she demanded hoarsely. "Why all alone?! H-He could have brought someone! I would have gone with him! Or-Or, equipment! I would have given him everything he needed! He…why would he…?"

"I don't know," Sheik admitted, tracing patterns on Link's palm soothingly. "I honestly don't know why he did it alone, or why he did it _now_ of all times. But…I feel — I feel as though there are…_were_… aspects to his relationship with…with that girl that we weren't aware of."

_I was going to marry her after the war_, Link agreed, smiling slightly in his state of semi-consciousness. _I still have the rings_.

"I'm going to request Darunia and some of the villagers accompany me to the ranch," suddenly decided Zelda. "I…I need to see…what exactly he managed to do in so short time."

"Yes," concurred Sheik quietly, and Link's hand jerked in reflex as the man pressed down on a pressure point unconsciously. The fingers stilled, paused over Link's skin in surprise, before they continued, brushing his skin in a comforting motion. "But ride quickly, Zelda. Midnight swiftly approaches."

"You aren't coming?"

Breath on Link's face, and the soft, muted noise of knees on the floor by the bed. "No. I think I'll remain here. The idiot may be exhausted now but, when he wakes, I'm worried about what he might do. He wasn't…he didn't seem to be in a clear state of mind outside." Link resented that, but couldn't voice his complaints.

"Sheik," Zelda began, hesitant, but her voice curious, thoughtful. "What…what exactly _is_ Link to you?" The question was gentle, completely innocent, but still Sheik's hands jerked away tensely from Link's, almost guiltily, and cool, discomforting air swept in around Link's skin.

"Perhaps one of my first friends," the Sheikah responded carefully, avoiding any more detail. "I just hope…I…I hope he can one day forgive me and return the sentiments."

When Zelda left, Sheik took Link's hand again, the fingers curling around his own, and as the Hero fell into the abyss of sleep, he thought tiredly, _I do_.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Link wasn't alone. It wasn't just him. Zelda and Sheik, he later realized while sitting on the lip of the well in Kakariko, were also never to be a part of that greater happiness that the villagers had found and clung so desperately to. The three of them were broken pieces of something whole, never to be melded back on or invited back in, outcasts of society that couldn't fit in now, and wouldn't ever again. Link understood that the villagers would eventually move on, grow weary of Link's paranoia, of Zelda's skittishness, of Sheik's menace, because they couldn't comprehend such extremes anymore. Because there was no reason for them.

Soon, they would be the only ones left. The only ones who remembered and still shuddered at night, still slept with their backs to the wall and their hands in easy reach of a weapon. They were shattered in mind and spirit. Link leaned back on his hands, feeling the cold stones beneath them, and wondered how they managed to make it this far. The villagers had their love, their innocence, their futures to hold onto, but what did Link have? What did Zelda and Sheik hold onto?

Blinking, Link glanced up just as the two subjects of his thoughts slowly approached, wary, and he frowned, tilting his head to the side and scrutinizing them like a child. They were evidently worried about his physical, and probably mental, health. He'd awoken only a few hours ago and washed before silently leaving the house, leaving them to nervously pace in his absence. Now, equipped with new knowledge, he studied them. Zelda was a frail, pale shell, a reflection of Hyrule's current state, but her eyes were dark with a fire, a fire that would _never_ be put out. She would guide her people to redemption, to salvation. Sheik was a damaged, ticking bomb, a toy that had been exploited and abused under too many hands, too many wills, but he walked in silence, a silence so strong, so absolving, that one just _knew_ that the Sheikah would never be played with again.

And there. _There_. Link's eyes widened as he finally understood. He knew, knew exactly what the three of them held onto, clung to, to survive in a world that was changing and healing without them.

Because he had just, in vague, unconscious thought, wondered what he would have done if either Zelda or Sheik hadn't made it out of the war alive.

It was so simple, so easy.

The villagers could live in their world of happiness, of bliss, and of virtuousness, they could cling to their need to love each other and overcome everything that had happened, might happen, will happen. But Link, Zelda, and Sheik? They had _their own world_, a world that was dark and bitter, violent and treacherous, and just as real, just as corporal, as the villager's, and they would walk it together.

"Good morning," Zelda murmured softly, her hair a hazy, honey-blonde in the dawn's light. "How do you feel?" Sheik stood wordless in her shadow, his red, bleeding eyes tentatively settling on Link's face, only to widen in surprise at the easy grin on the Hero's face.

"Our own world, huh?" Link said aloud, and both of his friends stared, not comprehending and — had he honestly just referred to Sheik as a friend? His grin broadened, and he laughed cheerfully at the worried looks they exchanged. They didn't understand now, but Link knew they would one day. Malon was gone, and he would never forget her, never try to replace her, but here, here were two people who could help him get past his scars, past her murder, past _everything_. "Yeah… Yeah, I like the sound of that." And he dusted his hands off and left the well, joining them.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** What a morbid chapter. Hard to write too, because I don't like describing Malon as dead. Oh, on that note, I would like to state right now, despite what you read in the chappy and what Link thinks, _Malon was not, in any way, shape or form, raped_. Almost, but not quite. Unfortunately, that story's for another time, another day. Anyway, please, please, **please**, review, because it was the reviews I got last time that inspired me into kick-starting this chapter and finally writing it. Thank you for reading, and I promise that the next chapter is much, much more light-hearted.


	5. five, part i

**Judgment Days**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.

**Warnings:** Language, some violence

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay, folks! There are two parts to this chapter, so expect the second half relatively soon!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter Five, Part I:**

_**these red burning eyes**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Smothering a wide yawn, the Hero of Time entered the kitchen, nearly tripping on his own feet. An oil lamp was glowing steadily, its shimmering light spilling over Zelda's elegant features where she sat at the small, round table, a worn quill in hand. Veering off from his original course (namely, his bed), Link instead sunk into a chair, joining the young woman. She smiled warmly.

"How was your day?" she asked, a mundane question that he never took for granted, because before Zelda, there had been no one to bother.

Link groaned histrionically. "Long. The boss is gonna have the western wall behind the back alleys torn down, but that's not all. He's decided on starting a 'new project'."

"A new project?"

"Yeah, you know the rock face by the temple? Well, he's going to request Darunia send more Gorons and then try to tunnel through. He wants to create a path between castle town and Kakariko."

Queen Zelda laughed congenially, gently placing down her quill. "I did give him permission to do as he pleased. After all, the man is an architectural genius. Though, this new project of his sounds like it will take some time, and probably quite an amount of funding. I'll have to speak with him."

"A path would be very convenient," he admitted grudgingly, even if it would mean surrendering the next few months of his admittedly lackluster life. Shaking his head absently, Link moved to stand and resume his plans for sleep when he was interrupted by a sudden, sharp sting in his left hand. Cringing slightly, Link glanced at Zelda (who gratefully seemed distracted) and discreetly itched at his skin through the hard case of his leather gauntlet. It was peculiar, but his hand had been acting up all afternoon, a pain that Link nonchalantly credited to open sores and calluses. He didn't dare check; taking off his gauntlet might reveal raw and bloody skin, in which case he would be forced to sit out the reconstruction to heal. Link figured if the pain didn't stop by next week, he'd ask the village witch to take a look at it.

Unbeknownst to him, across the table Zelda was staring at her right hand in contemplation, her fingers digging into her thigh.

After a long, pregnant hush, both blondes looked up, blinking. "…Yes, well," began Zelda, clearing her throat, "the villagers will be ecstatic. It's very dangerous for them to be traveling between town and Kakariko, especially at night. This will be comforting to them and their children." A few seconds passed, and her cheerful demeanor fell, her bright sapphire eyes clouded with dark thought. "However, I highly doubt Sheik will share the sentiment," she added quietly, turning her face into the moonlight, gazing out the window.

Link was expectantly silent, not quite understanding what she meant but knowing that the queen would eventually elaborate.

"You see, Kakariko is the home of Sheik's ancestors," finally explained Zelda, folding her arms underneath her breasts, examining him shrewdly, "and Sheik himself is the last of his people, a race that will, unfortunately, die with him."

"But that's _his_ choice," Link argued, if only for the sake of arguing. Because truthfully, the very mental image of Sheik settling down to marry some Hylian girl was laughable in itself, almost as much as picturing the other man chasing around a brood half-Sheikah brats. "I mean, if he bothered to look, I'm sure he could find _someone_."

The queen stared at him hard, her eyes intensely trained on his face as though she were searching for some kind of emotion, of reaction, but Link, clueless, just stared back, feeling that he was missing some crucial puzzle piece.

"Sheik has very little choice in the matter," Zelda dryly remarked, muttering under her breath something that sounded suspiciously like _stupid, oblivious Hylian boy_. "But that is neither here nor there. What I was trying to say, Link, was that this village holds a great amount of importance to Sheik as the last tie he has with his people. Should we allow the carpenters to continue with their plans and have a path tunneled, the very culture of Kakariko will be significantly changed. There will be more expansion, more modernization. From what I've heard, people have been clamoring to take down the windmill — it's not a sufficient source of energy anymore."

Though not normally objective, Link sided with logic. "It's for the good of the people," he pointed out needlessly, flinching under Zelda's disappointed expression.

"What's good for the people is for me to decide," the queen retorted, sounding frustrated. Her eyes softened, imploring Link. "Now is not the time to act upon what might be good for the people, but instead the time to dedicate rebuilding your life, Link, and that includes your relationship with Sheik."

"I'm trying," he mumbled, like a sulking child.

Zelda smiled affectionately — indulgently. "You are, Link, and very hard. But please, hear me out. You and I both know what is right in this situation; the villagers and the townspeople can survive without a new pathway. It's just a matter of stepping back and looking at it from the viewpoint of Sheik, which I think you don't do often enough. He won't say anything. Sheik will accept whatever is decided without question, even if it does take away one of the very few things of value to him." She sighed heavily. "Link, you've always been a figure of hope and justice in our world (and don't look at me like that, it's true). It's time, I believe, that you be Sheik's and stand firm on this issue, should he not." The young woman grinned. "Though, I suppose it doesn't matter either way. I gave the carpenters the authorization to rework castle town; I never said anything of Kakariko, did I?"

Link's face hit the table with a resounding _thunk_ of incredulity.

"And if they request to work on Kakariko? Well, I don't really have any say, especially since Impa left all of Kakariko to Sheik. Oh, you didn't know? Well, I would thank him, if I were you. He inherited not only this village, but this house. Did you know that was his bed you've been sleeping in?"

"Um, yeah. Hey! Have you eaten yet?" Link managed to choke out, his right eye twitching imperceptibly. Damnit, had he really been sleeping in Sheik's bed these past two months? Why hadn't the man said anything?! Shuddering, Link clearly recalled the first time (and last) he'd mistakenly thought it was morally okay to sleep in another's bed — it had been Ruto's. How the hell had he been expected to understand the implications? The Kokiri had never had such stupid, sick qualms! "_Oh Link_! _I set up a separate cot for you, but if you insist_!" Fortunately, King Zora had shown up with impeccable timing and intercepted his insane daughter. After a brief interrogation of what they had been doing, the king had then taken it upon himself to explain the "fish and the Jabu-Jabus" to Link, which would be, of course, the Zora equivalent of the "birds and the bees."

Back in the present, Zelda only smirked wryly in response, an irksome art she had picked up from a certain Sheikah. Smothering a chuckle, Link rolled his eyes and headed into the back room where the cured meat was kept. The queen, for all her talents in governing and diplomacy, had proven countless times that she was culinarily inept, a little tidbit that never failed to amuse Link. Usually, Sheik would prepare food before he disappeared at night (to where, Link didn't want to know), leaving enough rations for Link when the weary Hero came home. On the rare occasion that the Sheikah didn't, the monotonous task fell upon Link, who, sadly enough, only had cooking experience in roasting tektites and leevers on a stick (leevers being his personal favorite, as they weren't as gamey).

Flipping off the lid of a wooden barrel, Link reached in and pulled out some brined trout meat before heading back into the kitchen, where Zelda had already stoked the fire. Kneeling before the open hearth, Link grabbed a spit and speared the two fish, setting the spit over the hungry flames.

"Link," Zelda called, her tone careful, and he glanced over his shoulder inquisitively. "Why did you join the reconstruction team?" When Link just stared blankly, not quite understanding, the woman continued. "I mean to say, it's wonderful that you've dedicated so much of your time, but sometimes we — I, but sometimes _I_ worry that you might be pushing yourself too hard."

Had she noticed his hand? Feeling self-conscious, Link mechanically rolled the spit, watching the fiery tendrils below grab at the precious meat with greedy, licking fingers. "I like helping people," he answered slowly, wondering if this was some trick question. She wasn't going to ask him to quit the team, was she?

"I know you do," Zelda murmured softly. "…Just remember Link that you don't need to work yourself into the ground. You have every right to relax and enjoy your given time."

_And so do you_, Link thought grimly, regarding his friend before turning back to watch the meat cook. When the trout was prepared, Link returned to the table, sliding Zelda's plate over to her wordlessly. Together, the two youths picked at their food, distracted by their own contemplations, before the Hero dropped his fork to his plate, startling the queen. He was smiling.

"Want to go fishing tomorrow?"

Fishing, Link learned the following day, was something else Zelda was terrible at.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Exhausted, he clumsily sat back on sore haunches, a quick wave of dizziness disorienting him as he carefully unwound his aching body from its previously bent-over position. Damp locks of golden hair were plastered unattractively to his sweaty forehead, where beads of perspiration collected under the dark glare of the late autumn sun, so unusually strong for the season. Having been exposed to the dangerous afternoon rays, Link's naked back was taking on a light pink shade that languidly stretched over his tense shoulder blades and along the nape of his neck. Gingerly, the young man stood, wavering slightly as his vision was splotched with churning dots of red and yellow. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked furiously and cast a cursory glance down at the fruits of his labor; the unfinished thatch roof scowled up at him impatiently. He sighed.

"Aw boy, don't worry much about it," kindly advised Sabooro, panting loudly in the heat. Leaning back, he began to fan himself, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his burly chest. "You're a real big help! Don't be so hard on yourself!"

"Yeah kid," Jiro agreed, pausing to throw his head back, taking a long swig from a canteen. When he was finished, the man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking over to Link with a wide, toothy grin. "This is difficult stuff here, and some men just aren't cut out for it." Pointedly, the two carpenters turned as one to examine the messy, shoddy excuse for Link's section of the roof, where the thatches tentatively hung, pathetic and sad.

"It looks like one of the village kids did it!" Link groused, smacking his forehead in shame. Dismayed defeat descended, and the Hero of Time bowed his head in weary resignation.

"…Makes you wonder how he managed to save us from Aveil's women, huh?" mumbled Jiro in amusement to his partner, winking. Sabooro's barking laughter shot across the quiet marketplace and Link found himself cracking a smile, accepting the rough, amiable clap to his back as Jiro stood as well. "Well, anyway. We've got this covered, kid. Why don't you go take a break before the boss gets here? He'll find plenty for you to do." Both men grimaced.

"Yeah, I guess," Link replied easily, swiping his shirt up and yanking it on over his head; the collar got stuck on his ears. "But if you guys need an extra hand, call me over." With a final wave, the blonde hopped down from the roof, landing solidly on his bare feet. Shielding his eyes from the garish sunlight, he scanned the plaza for some refuge from the heat before heading over to a recently constructed shop bearing a wide, colorful awning. Dimly hoping the owners wouldn't mind, the fatigued youth slumped against the building wall, sliding down to the ground bonelessly. Curious, Link glanced up to track the roof's progress, only to discover the carpenters had swiftly completed his section already. Again, Link sighed.

It was hard trying to explain how he felt, and even though he knew Zelda was right, he couldn't put a stopper on his overwhelming desire to, well…help people. The carpenters were good about it, welcoming him cheerfully and treating him like a brother, but Link was only slowing them down, causing problems and wasting resources. He was eternally grateful to the men for not mentioning it, for allowing him to dream his delusions a bit longer, delusions where he was needed for more than just hacking and slashing apart monsters.

Scratching at his leather gauntlet absently, Link continued to dream.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Hey, Link!" called out Ichiro, one of the older carpenters. Sitting contemplatively on the lip of the new fountain, Link was startled out of his reverie, and curious, he glanced over his shoulder. The heavy man was waving a thick arm over by the drawbridge, gesturing to Queen Zelda standing beside him. The Hero blinked in wonder, finding it strange that Zelda, who was usually busy in the afternoon, would be visiting town, but then he noticed the paleness of her countenance and the wide, desperateness of her eyes. Immediately, he stood. "You've got company!" the carpenter shouted, completely oblivious to his queen's distress.

Link nodded, watching as Zelda said something he couldn't make out to Ichiro, who bowed his head, smiling. Swiftly, the queen brushed by, hurrying over to Link, and materializing from the shadows, Sheik smoothly followed suit, badly surprising poor Ichiro. As the two advanced, Link got the distinct feeling that not only was something amiss, but that Zelda wished to discuss it away from the carpenters and townspeople. Link shrugged and turned around, walking out of castle town and towards Hyrule Castle, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his trousers.

He stopped by a lone, adolescent tree, scrutinizing the castle looming in the distance, and waited patiently. Quickly, Link took note that Zelda was dressed in white britches, her hair swept up into a messy, hurried bun, and that she was wearing a light, hooded cloak. Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, Link decided that Sheik and Zelda weren't going to be sticking around for long; not when the queen was so obviously dressed for travel.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly when they were in hearing range. Zelda's glazed, remote eyes remained focused on the ground. "What's happened?"

"Hero," Sheik greeted casually, halting on Zelda's left, his blood red eyes sharp and alert. "Have you taken your gauntlets off in the past few days?"

"What kind of question is that?" balked Link incredulously, scowling in annoyance. But Zelda's expression was somber, solemn, and he immediately knew that the query had significance. With some guilt, Link recalled his stubborn refusal to remove the particular article, despite the burning sting of pain and itchiness. "Um, no, I guess," he eventually answered, sheepish, and, seeing them glance pointedly at one another, he grew defensive. "And I'm not quitting the reconstruction team, either!" Link continued, mulishly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning.

The Hylian Queen and the Sheikah shot him puzzled, suspicious looks, eyebrows raised, and Link realized that that wasn't why they had come.

Shaking his head absently, as if to dismiss the proclamation, Sheik gestured to Link's left hand seriously. "Well, then," he began smoothly, a dark, sarcastic note in his voice, "Take it off now."

Dread clutched frantically at Link's weary heart at the tone, and the young warrior understood that if he obeyed, something — _something _— was going to happen, to change. The Sheikah noticed his hesitance and his blood red eyes hardened, flashing with impatience. "Do it," he hissed softly, and so Link did.

Burnt into the tender flesh of his left hand, which he had scratched raw, gently glowed the Triforce.

The gauntlet dropped to the ground, but to Link, the noise seemed much greater, much louder, like a terrible explosion of sound in his ears. All emotion vanished with an abrupt flick, leaving him numb and cold as he stared listlessly at his hand, mouth sliding open. Truthfully, it wasn't abnormal for the sacred symbol to glow like this; often, it happened when he and Zelda were in close proximity, and sometimes when his — or Zelda's — emotions were particularly strong. Yet, while his individual third of the Triforce was brilliantly blazing as usual, so was the top triangle with spastic, glimmering bursts of golden light, like a fluttering heartbeat.

Ganondorf's third.

Hands kindly enclosed over his, and Link's head snapped up, his horrified eyes seeking out Zelda's resigned ones, and they stared silently at one another, communicating without words, the Triforces shining terribly between them. It reminded Link, strangely enough, of the day that Ganondorf was defeated. He almost vomited.

Sheik gazed on with a crazed, feverish gleam of overly bright fear in his wide eyes, and slowly shook his head in disbelief. "Then it's true," he breathed. "It's true."

"W-What? I…I don't u-understand," stammered Link urgently, his right hand holding his left wrist as though his hand were a venomous snake. He turned from face to face, pleading, but Sheik wouldn't meet his eye and Zelda was still staring at their conjoined fingers. As panic threatened to drown him, he growled warningly and lashed out. "Well?! For fuck's sake, say something!"

"Queen Zelda has received a letter from a Gerudo messenger hawk," murmured Sheik. "One of the women has given birth." He paused, glancing at Link before looking away swiftly. "Not only is the babe a boy, but the Triforce is visible on the back of its right hand."

Honestly, Link didn't believe a word of it. The situation seemed too surreal, too unbelievable. That is, until Zelda began to fumble with some clasps by her hip, shifting her weight to the left and brushing the folds of her cloak away. Link watched in subdued horror, a voice screaming _no, no, no, no, no_ in his head as Zelda unhooked the blade from her belt and presented him with the Master Sword. His heart thudded hollowly in his chest, _ba-dump-dump_, and all the color drained out of his face, fingers twitching and quivering at his sides when he tightened his fists. With a frantic haplessness, he stared at the glossy blue sheath, at the smoldering, almost excited expectation in Sheik's expression, at the exhausted lines creasing Zelda's despondent face, and then everything just _snapped_.

"Fuck no!" he cried huskily, and he stumbled back, pressing up against the rock face behind him, clutching the rough, uneven surface to hold himself up as he realized why Sheik and Zelda were here, why they had brought the Master Sword. "Oh, fuck _no_. You can't. I can't — I _won't_. No, really, you can't expect me…to just…" His throat was working furiously, Adam's apple bobbing, and now his entire body was trembling. "No. That's not…that's not _right_!"

"It _is_ right!" snarled Sheik passionately, face contorted with ugly rage, and he ripped the scabbard out of Zelda's hands, forcefully shoving it into Link's chest. "And we will do it! That thing must be killed!"

Zelda's eyes narrowed. "Don't dehumanize the baby by calling it a 'thing,' " she retorted waspishly. "While I agree that we must take immediate action, I won't tolerate you attempting to hide behind labels as an excuse for bloodying your hands again."

"An excuse?" Sheik's voice was low, deadly quiet, and there was a terrible glimmer of something in his dark red eyes, spinning and spinning. "An _excuse_? Explain to me, my _Queen_, how it's an excuse? Perhaps you don't quite understand the situation? By all means, please allow me to explain…" Link cringed at the caustic, biting sarcasm laced in those dangerous words. "…A Gerudo has given birth and, against the very nature of her race, her child is the second male to be born in the past thirty years. It is not uncommon knowledge that the Gerudo only birth boys once a century." The Hero of Time could tell that Sheik was sneering. "This, coupled with the fact that the child has somehow managed to acquire the Triforce of Power should be a damn good _excuse_ to destroy it and prevent future disasters. There's too much at risk!"

Before Zelda could respond, Link's control shattered. "Then _you_ fucking do it, you goddamn bastard!" he roared resentfully, hurling the Master Sword away and wiping his hands on his loose trousers. "Because I mean, sure! It's fine! It's absolutely _fine_ for you to just come along, hand me the sword, pat me on the head, and tell me to go murder an innocent, defenseless kid! Great! Sure! I'll go do that, why don't I? Better a number on my record rather than yet another on yours, huh Sheik?!"

Sheik didn't answer. Instead, he punched Link. _Hard_.

Link's head slammed into the sheet of rock behind him, violently enough that his vision became tinted with flares of red and yellow hues, dancing before him mockingly. Cursing under his breath, he sagged against the rocks heavily, reaching up to tentatively touch his nose (_ow, ow, fuck_) which he diagnosed as broken, if the steady stream of blood was any indication. His eyes were killing him, as though the Sheikah's fist had creamed him in the temple instead, and Link knew he was going to have black eyes soon. …Why did he even bother to get up this morning?

"What is _wrong_ with you men?!" Zelda was howling, her voice livid. "It's always violence, isn't it?! When will you grow up?!"

Long, calloused fingers gently brushed along his temple, smoothing over an eyelid and tracing the bridge of his nose. Flinching, Link knocked the intrusive hand away before sharply elbowing Sheik in the chest, glaring in furious satisfaction as the man quickly backed away. Or, at least, he tried to glare — but his left eye was swelling a bit, and his right hurt too much to open all the way. "Don'd touzh be." Damnit, not only was his head starting to throb, but he sounded like an idiot too. Fantastic, wonderful.

"You deserved it," remarked the Sheikah dispassionately, his words belied by the pained, self-deprecating look in his clouded eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he advanced, slipping past Link's fist and right up into the Hero's personal space, again probing the younger man's face with his fingers. "Your nose is broken."

"I dontized."

"Let me see," Zelda requested, sighing in exasperation, and she managed to steal into what little personal space Link had left, peering into his face. "Yes, it's broken. Stop wriggling around and hold still." Cool, slender fingers settled over his face, and Link squinted his eyes shut when a soft green glow began to emit from her skin. It was weird, and slightly disturbing, but his nose sort of felt all nice and tingly —

The bone snapped back into place, and Link was cursing yet again, this time louder and more creatively. "Thanks," he muttered crossly, twisting his head away from two pairs of hands trying to determine if the break was fixed correctly. "Okay, okay! I'm fine! It worked!"

The young woman frowned, shooting Link a sympathetic, wincing glance. "I can't help with the black eye," she apologized, and he could tell from her tone of voice that the bruise was already forming.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, wiping off the blood on his nose, lips, and chin with his arm — the bleeding had stopped, fortunately, though he supposed that was Zelda's handiwork as well. Drained, Link looked up from the red stain on his shirt sleeve, meeting Sheik's cold eyes before the other man wordlessly turned away.

A tension-thick, awkward silence fell, loud and signifying an end to the tentative friendship that the two men had been carefully building. Again, choking prejudice and blind distrust came, perhaps not as strong. Sheik was throwing up invisible walls, walls that would be for Link to scale this time, as opposed to before, when it had been the Sheikah who would stick his hand into the lion's cage, trying to draw the Hero out. The past eleven weeks of progress, so easily destroyed in a moment of pent-up anger, of stubbornly held-onto morals, of a fist connecting with Link's nose.

Sheik had become Link's friend however, and his friendship with the man wasn't something he was ready to relinquish. Annoyed with himself, Link glared at Sheik's back before whirling away as well, huffing angrily for how sentimental he could be.

The queen watched and smiled knowingly.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"How do I keep failing in this?" Link asked miserably, running a hand through his windblown, blonde locks. Beside him, Zelda gently eased her mount to a slow trot, matching Epona's stride. Listening, she turned to face him, brows knitting together in confusion. "It's pathetic, but it's almost as if I can't do anything right when it comes to him!" he continued, throwing his hands up in irritated disbelief. "I know. I _know_ that he's one of us, Zelda, that he's only doing what he thinks is right, as twisted as it is, but…" Epona snorted loudly, and he lamely trailed off, unable to finish the thought, to voice how he felt. Sighing, he glanced away from Zelda's sharp blue eyes, instead focusing on some point on the horizon, towards the red clay ridges and rocks of Gerudo territory, to where Sheik was waiting for them.

"Do you value Sheik as a friend?" the young woman asked gently, smiling encouragingly at him when he curtly nodded, experiencing a moment of ridiculous déjà vu, sitting with Saria, venting about stupid Mido, and why couldn't he just stop being such a jerk and play with Link? As Zelda's smile widened, Link groaned, feeling as though he were ten-years-old again. "I will admit, Link," she began, teasing, "that I'm not all that surprised that you would come to enjoy your relationship with him. The two of you have much in common."

"That must be why we're constantly bickering like children, or attacking one another and breaking noses," quipped Link sarcastically, and she rolled her eyes at his dramatics.

"Would you like my advice, or not?"

"Yes, mother."

She grinned and cuffed him. "Well then, listen up, Mr. Kokiri. Sheik holds you in very high regard, and, whether you believe it or not, your opinions about him mean more than I think you understand." Her eyes, warm and soft, saw through Link's nonchalance, saw his incredulity and embarrassment. "While I'm sure he doesn't ever expect to have your approval of his actions during the war, I know that he'll never stop hating himself until you at least forgive him."

Link's jaw dropped, eyes widening impossibly as his stomach churned uneasily. Hating himself? Distantly, the young Hero recalled Sheik's words the prior week, picking out the nuance of self-loathing in the other man's voice. "_Perhaps one of my first friends_," Sheik had quietly told Zelda. "_I just hope he can one day forgive me and return the sentiments_." But, why Link? Why not the families of Sheik's victims? Why not the people of Hyrule? Why _him_?

"Sheik doesn't have the power to forgive himself," Zelda continued, answering his unspoken questions, staring out into the horizon as well, lips a grim, tight line. "That remains a power he's chosen to give to you, and only you. Sheik realizes that he has murdered in cold blood, has taken away someone precious to you, but he can't fix these things. But he won't apologize either, because he isn't sorry that he murdered the farmer girl, or all those people."

"Why _not_?!" cried Link, horrified and unable to understand this concept. Epona's ears pinned flat against her neck as she picked up on his anxious mood, and she skittered away from Zelda's stallion nervously. "How can he not be sorry? How can he possibly justify it?!"

Zelda's smile was heartbreaking. "Because, you big dummy," she murmured, brushing the hair out of his face tenderly, "he did it to protect _you_."

As Link yanked Epona to a startled, stunned halt, the queen gently spurred her stallion on, leaving him to mull over her words and unspoken impossibilities.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Trudging through the shifting sand, Link hitched the hood higher over his face and inclined his head to a few passing warriors. He was just returning from a solemn meeting with the head Gerudo, who had politely requested that both Zelda and Sheik wait outside. While the Gerudo were ashamed to even look at the Hylian queen, they were too wary and distrustful of the Sheikah to consider his presence in the conference. And so Link had gone and spoken with the women himself, being the _only_ non-Gerudo that was unquestioningly trusted. The mother of the baby had been present, and despite the circumstances, Link had been surprised to see how anxious she had been. Knowing the ruthlessness of the Gerudo, he has almost expected her to be all-too willing to slay the babe, especially considering what the last Gerudo male had done to his people.

In retrospect, the meeting had been both short and very well executed. Nabooru's second-in-command, the merciless Aveil, and another of the Gerudo happened to be the representatives of the recently formed Court — a council made up of nine delegates from Hyrule's four races (the Kokiri had politely refused to be affiliated, pointing out that if they had any problems or concerns, Link would relay them). The two women had worked very smoothly and efficiently, thoroughly covering all the information they had at present. In a way, he was glad that the Gerudo were finally finding real, solid structure in their government, a government, that is, that wasn't centered around a raving madman.

Zelda was sitting silently on the steps leading up into the fortress, her cloak curling around her body as the strong wind tugged at it fervently. Standing atop the nearby sand dune, grasping the wooden shaft of the red flag to balance himself, Sheik gazed out into the distance, eyes focused on the roaring wasteland ahead.

"Nabooru is waiting for us in the Spirit Temple," said Link, stopping at the head of the stairs to toss an apple to Zelda and then to Sheik; the queen gratefully took a healthy bite out of the fruit, but the other man only held it disinterestedly by his side, not meeting eyes with the hero. Link sighed, and then helped Zelda up. "Sunset is coming fast," he explained, eyeing the sky derisively. "So we'll still be in the desert when light fades." The young man paused, knowing that he had to tread carefully here, and then continued. "This matter is too urgent for us to be trekking around aimlessly in the wasteland. Both of you can teleport straight to the temple, and I'll catch up in a few hours." Wisely, he decided not to mention he hadn't brought the Lens of Truth with him. "I've already slowed you two down by having to ride here with Zelda. There's no point in wasting anymore time."

"I refuse," came the straightforward response from Sheik, still not looking at him. The man wouldn't elaborate.

"Leaving you behind is not an option," agreed Zelda instantly, reaching forward to tug on his hair with a pleasant smile. Then, sensing his disquiet, she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "You're not a burden to us, Link."

But he felt like he was. Two months had passed since Link had broken his ocarina, and though Sheik had mended the halves into a whole, all of the instrument's magical properties had been destroyed. Not only could Link not contact Saria, but he could no longer use the ocarina to teleport to the various temples in Hyrule. He was dead weight.

He shook his head; they didn't have time for his moping and self-pity. Carefully, Link hitched up his hood and adjusted the cowl of his cloak, knowing that, regardless, he was going to get sand in awkward places yet again. Gesturing for his companions to follow, the young warrior headed towards the gate, feeling the hawk-like eyes of the Gerudo following him.

"Rookie!" called down the guard, her viridian red hair cropped ruthlessly short, probably due to the fact she worked so closely to the desert. "What's a matter? I haven't seen you take on the wasteland in a while! Where's your ocarina?"

Tilting his head back to look up at her, Link smiled and shrugged, ignoring Sheik's obvious impatience. "Guess I forgot it," he replied easily, and she laughed lightly.

"Yeah, okay rookie. Well, you're in for some trouble. We had a sandstorm a few days ago — all of the flags are buried and we haven't had the time to set up new ones. You gonna be alright?"

"Shouldn't the desert calm down after nightfall?" suggested Zelda thoughtfully, frowning at the guard. "In an hour or two, it shouldn't be that difficult a trip."

The guard shot them a sympathetic, pitying look, leaning heavily on her elbows over the stone tower. "They didn't tell you? Figures. The wasteland's in tune with the spirits, you know, and ever since that kid's been born…well, let's just say that the desert's been behaving a bit badly. Kind of like it's excited. The winds and storms don't ease at night now."

Zelda and Link exchanged long, worried glances, the queen biting her lip and Link's face reflecting his apprehension. "I, uh, had a pretty rough time getting through _with_ the flags," he admitted slowly, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay, no. This is really starting to sound like a bad idea. If we got separated, or trapped in another storm — "

"Thank you for the information," Sheik civilly told the guard, his back straight and ramrod, and then he walked wordlessly past the gates, leaving Link and Zelda blinking in the dust.

"Damnit," muttered Link, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes and regretting it — he'd forgotten about the bruise, "but he's stubborn."

"Again, the two of you have much in common," dryly remarked Zelda. Taking his hand, she tugged him along as she hurried after Sheik's slowly disappearing form. "Just think of it as another adventure," she threw back at him with a weak smile, and so they entered the wasteland.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The winds were awful, howling and screaming, nipping at their skin and lashing out at them like a whip, over and over. Sand, dry and scratchy, buzzed through the thick air, making it hard to breathe, to walk, and the heat, even at the late hour, was suffocating to the point that Link's lungs were gasping for oxygen. Visibility was zero, and even Zelda in front of him, who was tightly holding his hand in a death grip, was a blur of a silhouette, masked and obscured by the whirlwinds of grainy sand. Holding Zelda's other hand, Sheik was leading them — or at least, Link hoped; he honestly had no idea where they were going or if there was anyone even standing before Zelda.

Ahead, there was a loud, muffled noise, like Sheik had yelled something back to Zelda, but over the wind, Link couldn't catch it. Unfortunately, he was soon to realize it had been a warning to watch their footing, and when he took the next step, expecting even, solid ground, he was sorely surprised to find nothing. They had been trekking along the top of a sand dune.

Before gravity and momentum could royally screw him over, all Link could think was _Well, this really sucks._

Link was a heavy young man, packing on at least a hundred-seventy some-odd pounds, and under that weight, he knew the unaware Zelda and Sheik were going to get seriously injured. As he tipped forward, unbalanced, he hurriedly slapped off the queen's hand before he could drag her down with him and ignored the subdued, muted exclamation of angry shock. Pitching his weight to the side, he fell heavily, just narrowly avoiding Zelda, and tumbled forward face-first, landing on his back, rolling head-over-heels down the steep decline, the gritty sand eagerly biting him.

Sighing, Link struggled to his feet, wincing and massaging his neck. Besides the wasteland consuming him, it was deathly silent and a feeling of desperation welled within him, clawing up his throat in the form of a shout. "_Zelda_!" he screamed, trying to fight off the chuckling of the desert, to be heard in the hungry maw of churning sand. "_Sheik_!"

This had been, from the start, not only a Bad Idea, but a Really Stupid, Bad Idea. He blamed Sheik entirely.

There was, predictably, no response, and Link realized he was now separated from the only pair of eyes that could safely escort him to the Temple, or even back to the Fortress. Swearing (and choking on dust), the young man began to quickly calculate how far he'd fallen, how off course he'd rolled, and then reached out to touch the dune, trying to find the impressions he must have made when rolling down.

Already, his tracks had been swept over, leaving him with nothing to go by. Ah, well, he'd never let little obstacles like that stop him before, right?

Feeling his way around the dune, Link set off to try and meet his companions at the base, which should be…somewhere over there? Or was it there?

…Oh, Link was going to _strangle_ Sheik.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** Okay, character rundown! Shiro, Jiro, Ichiro, and Sabooro are the four carpenters that Link saved from Gerudo Fortress (Shiro was mentioned in chapter three), and Aveil is the Gerudo who gives Link the membership card (she's named in Majora's Mask). Thank you for reading and please don't forget to review! Second half of the chapter will come quicker if I'm encouraged! ;D


	6. five, part ii

**Judgment Days**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.

**Warnings:** Language

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** And here is the second half of chapter five, which I hope you'll all enjoy!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter Five, Part II:**

_**these red burning eyes**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The black, mourning curtain of night only made navigating the wasteland all the more challenging. Now that there was no light, Link couldn't even make out his hands, never mind the always changing, traitorous ground below him. He'd fallen and tripped and slid over hundreds of sand dunes, always landing on his aching back, always cursing Sheik under his breath. To make matters worse, the desert was starting to dangerously cool, and he found himself at times kneeling, shoving his hands under the still hot sands to warm them up. After mucking around indolently for about three hours, Link had given up hope of finding any familiar landmark or his companions and had settled down to make camp for the night. Well, camp basically consisted of him sitting on his haunches, shuddering, in the tent of his cloak, forced to get up and relocate every ten minutes when the sands started to bury him. He'd yet to come across any desert monsters, though this proved to be a double edged sword when his stomach loudly groused its complaints.

Link grunted. Oh, what he would do for leever-on-a-stick.

Fortunately, Link knew that he wasn't about to die in the wasteland. If he knew Sheik like he thought he did (and he did), then after Link had been separated, his two companions would have searched briefly for him before continuing to the Spirit Temple. When Zelda was safe with Nabooru, Sheik would return and search for Link, regardless of the massive size and girth of the desert. Link knew that the man would find him, because Sheik was stubborn after all, and Link's friend. It was just a game of surviving before he was found.

Again, his stomach spoke up, and Link rolled his eyes.

"The things you get yourself into, fairy boy." A gentle laugh, carried on the wind like a sighing caress, musical and lovely.

He froze. His heart, hammering wildly, lodged itself in his throat, stuck, and he imagined he'd never be able to swallow it down, have to taste it on his tongue, tantalizing, forever. As his chest painfully constricted, tight, fear and horror and hope and longing swelled thick and hot in him quickly, but not quickly enough. He was turning around now, shaking and trembling and wide-eyed like a lost boy.

There was no one there.

Link got up, dusted off his cloak, and stared walking. He didn't look back.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sheik was either very fast, or very determined. Only after about six and a half hours of being stranded was the young Hero found, settled against the spiny length of a flag shaft, freezing and starving. Heavy purple bruises had formed under Link's eyes, a product of not only his black eyes, but a night of restless nightmares chasing him through the wasteland.

When Sheik finally reached him, he bonelessly collapsed to the ground beside the Hero, gasping for breath and covered in sweat. He was calling Link a lot of nasty things, things he wouldn't have said in front of Zelda, but Link was too exhausted to even acknowledge the other man with more than a flicker of his eyes. Sheik's hand, slender and strong, seized Link's, the cold steel in his eyes daring the Hero to let go, and then Sheik burrowed close, away from the whiplash of the sand, and into Link's side.

Link let him sleep.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I think you might have sprained it," Link decided to politely inform one grumpy and very irritable Sheikah the next morning, blinking furiously against the heavy sheet of sand billowing over them. Carefully holding the man's ankle in one hand, he probed the swollen and tender skin with his other, ignoring his companion's dark glare. "It wouldn't be in such bad shape if you had let Zelda heal it before returning to the desert." Talking was a dumb idea, he decided, and Link turned his head to the side to spit out a mouthful of gritty sand, grimacing.

Rolling his eyes, Sheik violently jerked his foot away from the Hero of Time, leaning back on his hands for balance. "I'm fine," he snapped crossly, quickly rewrapping his ankle. Dumping sand out of his boot, the Sheikah shoved his foot into it, clearly intending to walk on his sprain either way. "My ankle," he confirmed a moment later, "is not nearly as important as your safety."

Both men paused, each startled by the simple sincerity hidden behind those words, and Link looked away in embarrassed amusement, his ears heating up even as he grinned. "Er, how far is the Temple?" he tactfully inquired, rolling gracelessly to his feet and shaking off the sand from his cloak. He offered a hand to Sheik.

"Roughly speaking, twenty minutes in that direction," replied the Sheikah, taking the proffered hand and pulling himself up onto his good foot. "And banish whatever designs of martyrdom you've been plotting — I'm not teleporting to the Temple."

"I'd never dream of it," dryly retorted Link, hoping that Sheik wasn't reading his mind again. He'd had every intention of cautiously requesting the other man to teleport to the Spirit Temple, if only to spare his ankle. After all, the Hero of Time knew what direction to head in now, right?

"Forget it."

"I didn't say anything!"

The other man shot him a flat look, and Link smiled sheepishly. Snorting, Sheik turned away, staring out into the loudly whispering planes of the desert, his bleeding red eyes dilated, frighteningly wide. The Hero realized that he was searching the wasteland, his peculiar eyes penetrating the walls of sand and illusion, seeing things that Link could not. While the man was occupied, Link took the moment to really assess Sheik's condition, frowning. Not only was the man blatantly favoring his right leg, but his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and his usually tan countenance a pale gray.

Link could remember the terrible, blissful warmth of Sheik's body, tucked flush against him, the trembling of his freezing fingers as he tried to dislodge the Sheikah's painful, too-tight grip on his hand. He'd surrendered the fruitless struggle when his efforts awoke a groggy Sheik, who had sunk his teeth into Link's shoulder in annoyance, mumbling something incoherent before returning to sleep. So instead, the Hero had sighed from blue, chafed lips and lowered his head, hiding his face in the crook of Sheik's neck. Praying that they wouldn't be buried alive by morning, he'd fallen asleep.

Nearly five hours later, the two men had stirred to a bleary desert dawn, furiously pretty and setting the glittering sands ablaze with the fiery light of morning. Fortunately, they hadn't been buried alive during the night, but instead faced an even deadlier situation — awkwardly attempting to justify the somewhat provocative, intimate position they'd woken up in. The Hero had played if off, mentioning that if Sheik hadn't arrived when he had, Link would have probably frozen to death, but the Sheikah hadn't been amused. In fact, there had been a troubled twist to the man's mouth as he avoided meeting Link's eyes.

"The winds are picking up," Sheik remarked, startling the young man. "We won't make it to the Temple before the sandstorm hits unless we leave now. Come." He'd already taken a few, wavering steps forward before realizing that his companion wasn't following. Brows furrowed, he glanced over his shoulder, worried. "Hero?"

"You know," slowly began Link, thoughtful, gingerly approaching the other man. "That was the first time I've ever seen any part of your body beside your face." When Sheik dropped his guard in surprise, his eyes widening in mortification even as some healthy color abruptly returned to his face, Link struck with all the speed he could muster, counting on the fact that his friend should be sluggish and exhausted. Swiftly seizing Sheik's hands, Link swung the lithe man around to his back before pulling the sinewy arms over his shoulders and hauling the Sheikah up. Finally, when Sheik was comfortably situated on the Hero's back, the other man seemed to snap out of his shock and proceeded to dig his blunt nails into Link's shoulders, kicking out with his legs wrathfully. "Ow! Damnit, knock that off! That's where you bit me!" Link whined, rolling his shoulder to try and dislodge Sheik's fingers.

Sheik froze, one heel painfully digging into Link's groin, obviously trying to castrate him. "What?" he hissed, incensed. "I've _never_ bitten you!" The very thought seemed like it disturbed him greatly, but the Hero wasn't going to let him off the hook.

"Yeah, you definitely did!" Link argued cantankerously, turning his head to glower at Sheik. "Last night! I swear I thought you were going to cut off the circulation in my hand, and when I tried to get you to let go, you bit me!"

"That's ridiculous!" But Sheik sounded doubtful, because they both knew that Link wouldn't lie about something so trivial. "Either way, you're going to release me. Now."

The Hero of Time muttered under his breath, sucking in his stomach and trying to twitch his hips away from that threatening heel. "Look at it this way," he offered. "You're going to slow us down and possibly further injure yourself. If I carry you, you can direct me where to go, we won't get separated, and we won't get caught in the sandstorm. Very convenient, if you ask me."

"I didn't. Put me down."

"I'll knock you out if I have to," Link seriously warned, hitching Sheik's legs higher around his waist and tentatively walking, realizing that the Sheikah wasn't nearly as heavy as the rest of his equipment he used to carry. "And then I'll aimlessly wander through the desert, getting us lost and possibly eaten by some hungry monster. During our prolonged absence, Zelda's motherly instincts will kick in and she'll adopt the Gerudo kid, naming him heir to the Hylian throne or something."

Unfortunately, Sheik didn't share Link's amusement and continued his attempts to castrate him.

"S-Shit," cursed Link, not daring to take another step. "Sheik, c'mon. I know you don't like it, but we really don't have time for this."

After a moment of frustration, Sheik relented, loosely draping his arms over Link's chest and reluctantly relaxing. Sighing quietly, he gently smoothed over the fabric of the Hero's cloak where his nails had nearly punctured the cloth and pointed to the left. "Start walking in this direction," he said in resignation, resting his chin on Link's shoulder. "Walk carefully and watch where you're going."

Shrugging nonchalantly (and accidentally jostling Sheik in the process), Link marched into the thick sand, keeping his head down and eyes on the ground. Besides the occasional puff of breath across his cheek, Sheik was a nonexistent presence on his back, vaguely comforting and very warm.

"I apologize for this," suddenly murmured Sheik, contrite. "I understand that you must be exhausted…you were very off track of where we lost you. You shouldn't have to do this."

Link laughed loudly, stumbling over a rock hidden in the sands. "I had to keep walking; the sand started to bury me if I stuck around in one place too long. It wasn't all that tiring though, since I knew that you were coming for me, so don't worry about it."

The arms around his chest tightened uncomfortably, and Link straightened, trying to squirm out of the rigid, unyielding vice. "You knew?" echoed Sheik incredulously, and the Hero instinctively shied away from the breath ghosting against his ear. "How exactly did you — easy here, Hero. The sand is very loosely packed and will collapse under your weight."

Skirting around the area meticulously, his brows furrowed in concentration, Link realized that Sheik wasn't going to continue his question. Panting slightly (the sun was very quickly heating up the desert), he decided to answer anyway. "It's easy," he responded casually. "I knew you were coming…well, because you're my friend, Sheik." He was going to continue, but his foot sunk through layers of sand, trapped to his kneecap. Inhaling deeply, his thigh muscles clenching beneath Sheik's foot, he wrenched his leg out. "Now I've got sand in my boot," groused Link in annoyance, wriggling his foot around awkwardly.

A hand was suddenly on his chin, roughly yanking his head to the left, hard. Grimacing, Link opened his mouth to ask Sheik what the hell his problem was, but there were two blood red eyes, wide and intense and piercing, _and so close_. Silent, Link stared up into those eyes, shocked to see that there were actually hints of black in the crimson irises, submerged in the permeating sea of the red. Sheik's expression was open, and Link could see amazement there, humility and warmth, reflected in the man's tentative smile.

"_Sheik doesn't have the power to forgive himself. That remains a power he's chosen to give to you, and only you_."

Link smiled too, and something knotted in his chest released, easing up. A bubble of laughter escaping him, he leaned up and head butted the Sheikah at the awkward angle, the cords of muscle in his neck straining. "Don't look at me like that," he teased. "Of course you're my friend, you creep."

Sheik blinked owlishly, rubbing his forehead as if perplexed by the physical gesture, but he was still smiling, a slight, nearly unnoticeable quirk to the lips that might have been mistaken for a smirk. "Thank you, Link," he breathed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Link's, probably doing his damndest to return the gesture. When Sheik opened his eyes, there was something strange in those red depths, something burning and hungry and focused that Link couldn't understand. But he could understand that that smoldering look was directed at him, a look that made him squirm and sent a surge of dizziness rushing through him. Shaking his head, the Hero turned away and continued walking, his mouth dry.

For the remainder of the trip, even as the winds did indeed pick up, as Sheik predicted, the other man was a languid weight on his back, his heat thawing Link's cold limbs as quickly as the rising sun. Despite his lethargic state, however, Sheik's eyes were as keen as ever, and with a few soft commands, the man had directed them straight to the desert colossus, the figure of the sand goddess visible in the distance.

Excited, Link proceeded to animatedly chat his companion's ear off, legs pumping at a relatively relaxed jog.

"That's all?" balked Sheik, amused. "You just meandered through the desert? For six hours?"

The Hero grinned. "Yeah," he admitted wolfishly, spotting the oasis. "Well, to be honest, I was really hoping that I'd find some leevers; I was starving. But it was strange. Normally there are masses of monsters, just littering the desert, yet there were none last night. Actually, there was nothing in the wasteland, just the wind and the sand, oh…and the voices."

"Voices?" reiterated Sheik sharply, the humor in his tone gone. "Link, whatever they told you, put your mind to rest. The spirits of the desert conjures illusions to ensnare the weary traveler. None of it was real."

"No, it wasn't like that," Link explained, grinning. Trust Sheik to immediately think something evil was underfoot. "I mean, I know it wasn't real, but she wasn't… She was _helping_ me."

"She?"

Oh man, this was really going to kill the newly established Let's Be Friends vibe. Sighing heavily, Link slowed to a walk, blinking as sweat rolled into his eyes. "It was Malon's voice," he elaborated calmly, and then they entered the tranquil recess of the Spirit Temple, the sands stilling and the winds dying.

Finally, they had cleared the wasteland.

As Link stopped by the oasis, Sheik wordlessly slipped off, leaning on the Hero for support as he found his footing. Together, the two men slumped to the ground before the clear, glazed water, examining their reflections pensively. A few brightly glowing fairies skimmed the surface of the spring, dancing with one another over the water. Link watched them and smiled, thinking of Navi.

"What did she say?" finally asked Sheik, not unkindly.

Link's smile widened wistfully, and he leaned back on his hands, peering up at the sky through squinted eyes. "She warned me about a few tricks the Gerudo had set up in the desert. There were a lot of traps, actually, that I hadn't been aware of my first time going through, and I almost got myself killed on one last night. Malon told me where to go after that…kind of like how you did today." Sheik's eyes softened and he looked away. "Mostly, she sang to me, but it was hard to hear over the wind. Sometimes, we talked."

"About what?"

The young man shrugged. "About Epona and the ranch; she's worried that someone will take the deed to the land. Later, she asked about Zelda — she always wanted to meet the queen — and then about you."

Sheik looked nauseous, and so Link hurriedly continued, not wanting the man to get the wrong idea. "She just wanted to know if you were okay and stuff. Said you seemed like the type to brood, and that wasn't healthy."

"…If I was okay and stuff," Sheik muttered in disbelief, his head in his hands. "…What else did she say?"

"Once, she asked if I still had the rings — "

Sheik's friendly, amazed demeanor vanished, his eyes widening in horror as he stumbled to his feet, hands clenched into fists. "What rings?!" he demanded harshly, voice shaking. "Oh _goddesses_, don't. You…you were engaged?!"

"Sheik! Link!" shouted Zelda in relief from the Spirit Temple, tearing off her cloak as she ran down the steps frantically.

"Yeah," the Hero responded warily, sensing the disquiet, an eyebrow raised in puzzled concern as he stood as well. "We were going to marry after the war. Hey, Sheik…what's wrong?" He reached out to touch the other man's arm, but Sheik jerked away.

"I wasn't under the impression that your relationship with her was so intimate," confessed Sheik weakly, sighing. Then, with a grimace, the Sheikah looked up, his expression steely but honest. "This changes nothing, Link," he continued callously, eyes burning. "You must know now that I regret nothing that I did during the war." His face lightened slightly, and he clasped both hands on Link's shoulders gravely. "But I _am_ sorry for your loss. Only now do I realize how important she was to you."

Standing there, the slender man seemed defeated, exhausted, burdened by his actions and yet unwilling to have remorse for them, only for Link's grief. And standing there, regarding Sheik closely, Link smiled.

"She was very important," Link agreed truthfully, his easy tone stunning Sheik, who stared at him bewildered. Laughing, he leaned back from his friend, thanking Malon in the back of his mind. "But now, my loss isn't nearly as important as your friendship to me," he quipped, spinning the Sheikah's own words back at him. After months of heated diatribes, of spiteful remarks, of fists and violence, Link forgave him with two words. "All's well, Sheik."

Sheik stood there, frozen, his expression caught somewhere between overwhelmed disbelief and crushing bliss, and then Zelda came crashing out of nowhere and had tackled Link, sending the two youths spiraling into the oasis. When they emerged, choking and spitting and mock-glaring at one another, Sheik started to snigger, one finger pointed at them, before it escalated into full-blown, stomach-hugging laughter, ringing loudly over the dull roar of the desert. After a moment, Zelda threw back her head and joined him, snorting and cackling. Peering out from beneath the hair plastered to his face, Link grinned.

"All _is_ well, fairy boy," murmured a playful voice in his ear, and he felt something cool and fleeting touch his cheek. He heard a giggle, musical and teasing and pleasant, and it was a farewell. She was gone.

Zelda stood up, her shirt clinging to her skin indecently, her hair matted and splattering droplets of water everywhere, and Sheik was howling with laughter, doubled over and gasping for breath as he continued to point at his two friends, soaked and floating in the spring.

Everything was well.

Until Link threw Sheik in, that is.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You could have _told_ me you were going to go swimming," grumbled Nabooru crossly, apparently unhappy that she had been left out. Flipping her long, vibrant hair over her shoulder haughtily, she tossed some towels at the three youths where they were reclining on the steps to the Temple, already half-dry under the sun's hot ministrations.

"It wasn't planned," sarcastically remarked Sheik, declining on the offer of the towel, sitting with his legs drawn to his chest, arms resting on his knees. He shot Link a glare.

"Well, guess the kid's got another hour to live then," commented the Gerudo brightly, disregarding the incredulous, horrified expressions of her guests. "That's good. He's grown on his nursemaid — she'll probably come after you with an ax when she learns why you're here." She laughed, as if this was an amusing prospect, and they blanched.

Rubbing his hair dry with a vengeance, Link glanced up at the Sage curiously. "Why is the baby here, Nabooru? This isn't exactly a great environment to raise an infant."

Nabooru snorted, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. "All children must remain at the Spirit Temple, the dwelling of our goddess, for the first month. It has been tradition since the very existence of my people. If they survive, they are named and returned to their mothers. If not, we feed the bodies to the sandworms."

"Sandworms?" dubiously echoed Zelda, trying to hide a grin. Her towel was slung over her shoulders.

"They're common at night, when the desert is still," the Sage expanded. "They're nocturnal and cause most of the sandstorms at dawn."

"What is tradition concerning male Gerudo children?" inquired Sheik, going straight for the heart, effectively destroying the somewhat peaceful, easy-going mood. "I know for a fact that you would not, in any case, return him to his mother."

Nabooru fixed the man with a long, grave stare, her heavily painted lips thinned. "When a male is born," she began solemnly, gracefully dropping into a crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet, "it is written that he shall be named King, to be raised in the Spirit Temple by the exalted leader of the Gerudo, and then married to the exalted leader of the Gerudo."

"…Uh, but isn't that you?" Link pointed out.

"Yup!" Nabooru rolled to her feet fluidly, smirking suddenly. "That'd be me!"

"So you're going to be his mom and his wife?" persisted the Hero of Time, face scrunched up in disgust. Zelda elbowed him in the ribs.

Nabooru also seemed to share his distaste for the situation. "Who are you kidding? Do I look like the marrying type to you? I was supposed to get hitched to Ganondorf too, but that obviously didn't happen." She chuckled.

"They allowed you to refuse the marriage proposal?" Zelda asked quietly, frowning.

"Well…" The Gerudo trailed off, hands behind her head. "Ganondorf kind of killed the leader who came before me in a fit of rage (he was eight, and she wouldn't let him ride the sandworms). I had just been born, so they named me the next exalted leader and gave me to Ganondorf to raise."

"But he was eight-years-old!" exclaimed Link, completely missing the fact that Ganondorf was also homicidal.

She nodded winsomely. "He tried to drown me in the oasis, but Koume and Kotake stopped him. It was agreed that the hags would raise him and the warriors would raise me and, in fifteen years, we would marry. So, fifteen years passed, and that's when you showed up Link! What a cute kid! Anyway, Ganondorf was off on serious Conquering Hyrule Business and didn't have time for a wife, he said. Well, I was fine with that! But then those damn hags brainwashed me and…well, you know the rest of the story." Nabooru grinned cheerfully.

"I think it's time to see the child," Sheik decided wryly, helping the queen to her feet and dropping his towel on Link's head.

The inside of the Spirit Temple was just as Link remembered it — cool, dry, and massive. The twin cobra statues on either side of the antechamber glared at them as they entered, raised up with their hoods revealed, as though ready to strike, their jewel encrusted eyes glittering maliciously in the dark. Nabooru led them through the side corridors, following the sand-swept stone flooring, and Sheik took up the rear, trailing behind Zelda closely. After a few minutes of tense, edgy walking, Nabooru stopped by an archway into another room and gestured them inside.

The baby's room was small and pleasantly warm, which was possibly because it was buried beneath hundreds of layers of sun-baked sand. There were two stone altars in the room, one small and tucked away in the corner, and a much larger one standing in the middle, stained with old blood.

"The mothers give birth here," the Spirit Sage explained, following Link's stricken gaze. "We don't have healers and magic like the Hylians, so sometimes the births get messy."

"It's very small," quietly noted Sheik, and at first, Link thought the man was talking about the room in general. Then he realized that the Sheikah was leaning over the first altar and that he must be talking about the baby. Swallowing nervously past the lump in his throat, Link stepped up beside Sheik and peered down at the child.

It looked funny; wrinkly and fat, not nearly as cute as women made babies out to be. Already, the chubby baby was sporting thick, proud red hair and as Link continued to stare at it, he noticed that it didn't have the characteristic gem in its forehead. He wanted to ask when the boy would be given his own, but was afraid that Nabooru would reply that it depended on whether they let the boy live or not.

Two blinking, squinty amber eyes were glaring up at Sheik threateningly, promising pain if the other man wouldn't look away first, and Link had the distinct feeling that the child was going to start wailing, so he hastily pulled his lithe friend away.

"What do you think?" demanded Nabooru smugly, her hands on her round hips. "A fine male Gerudo, wouldn't you say? He'll make a good king."

Link wrinkled his nose. "It's ugly," he remarked grimly, which, in retrospect, had been a good answer because his words made Sheik relax, his shoulders sagging as he shot Link an exasperated but amused look.

Stifling her laughter, Zelda cleared her throat and stepped forward, smiling brightly. "There's nothing to fear, Nabooru," she murmured gently. "I don't feel any malice from the child." Yet, the slender queen gestured for the other three to gather around the altar. Link frowned and approached once more, meeting the eyes of the annoyed baby. He stuck his tongue out at it childishly, but it continued to glare. Figured; the kid was a Gerudo through and through.

Taking Link's left hand in her right, Zelda placed both of their fingertips on the back of the child's right hand. The resulting flare of light was impossibly bright, radiantly filling every crevice in the walls and floor before slowly dying down to a soft, simmering glow trapped between their hands. His heart hammering wildly in his ribcage, Link realized he and Zelda were both gasping for breath frantically, the queen's forehead gleaming with sweat. Feeling oddly relieved and not knowing why, Link glanced down at the baby only to realize that it had fallen asleep, tiny fingers curled around theirs. Something warm and feathery made his chest swell, and he turned to Zelda, smiling shyly.

"Zelda?" quietly implored Sheik, on edge, refusing to even gaze at the child.

"The baby does not carry the same taint of malevolence as Ganondorf," the queen declared gently, brushing her fingers over the child's messy crown of hair. "Killing him would not be an act of justice, but of evil."

As Nabooru sighed loudly in relief, Sheik curtly nodded and abruptly left, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor. Link looked after him worriedly, but Zelda put a hand on his arm, smiling kindly and shook her head.

"Well then, this calls for celebration!" Nabooru was saying, smirking. "Lo and behold, the Gerudo have a new king!"

It was peculiar, Link thought, but the past two days had been…masochistically fun. He'd gotten punched in the face by an angry Sheikah, lost in the godforsaken desert where apparently there were sandworms, and all for what? This thing? Link snorted. Everything had come down to this tiny, ugly thing, and the decision had been made in about two minutes. Link thought that was a bit anticlimactic — he'd been kind of expecting the baby to be possessed by Ganondorf's vengeful spirit or something.

The Gerudo woman clapped her hands together, whooping. "Oh, I almost forgot! Now that the kid can live, I think you'll be happy to know that Link has been named the godfather!"

"What?!" cried Link in horror, whirling on the grinning woman. "But I'm not a Gerudo!"

"And what _other_ male Gerudo would you have us appoint the honor?" scoffed Nabooru, throwing her hands up in the air.

Link wasn't giving up that easily. "I don't even know the mother! Why would she name me godfather of her baby?!"

"All the Gerudo know you, Link! You're our famous little man-warrior!" Nabooru beamed at him. When Link only groaned, she tried another approach. "Cheer up! I'm the godmother, which makes you and I godparents!" She blew him a kiss.

"What do you people want from me?" complained Link piteously. "I'm the godfather of a Goron and a Gerudo. Do you think I'm made of rupees? I can't afford two godchildren!"

That got Nabooru's attention fast. "…Afford?" she echoed worriedly, eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't know?" asked Zelda sympathetically. "Traditionally, the godparent buys gifts for the godchild."

"What?! How often?!" demanded the exalted Gerudo leader in abject horror. Link supposed spending money on others probably wouldn't be at the top of a thief's To-Do List.

"Often," groused Link, peering into his empty wallet; after all, Prince Link's birthday had only been last week. "Too often."

Nabooru named Zelda the godmother after that. Link didn't think that was fair.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" persisted Zelda, torn. They were standing on the lip of the stairs leading into the Spirit Temple, the hot afternoon sun burning strong above them. "It really isn't a bother, Link. Either Sheik or myself could remain with you."

"Zelda, you have a country waiting back home," Link reminded her, smiling. "And I don't need to be babysat. You two go on. I'll be home in a few days."

Standing by a crumbling pillar, Sheik scowled fiercely, not pleased with the outcome of their heated argument, but didn't say anything more. Instead, he settled for glaring accusingly at Link, and the Hero of Time found himself wondering if maybe Sheik would have been a more appropriate godfather for the sourpuss Gerudo.

"Aw, don't worry!" suggested Nabooru, slapping Link on the back roughly. "I'll escort Link back to the fortress myself! Hey, if we wait until nightfall, we can even try to rope ourselves a pair of sandworms! Traveling would be much easier then!"

Both Zelda and Sheik looked like they were having second thoughts about leaving Link with the Gerudo thief, and he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Just go, I'll be fine."

As they were saying their goodbyes, the queen lightly pecked him on the forehead, quietly murmuring in his ear for him to behave himself, and then she vanished in a crack of gold light. Sheik stared blankly at Link for a moment, opened his mouth as though to say something, and then abruptly teleported as well. Link grinned; the Sheikah didn't need to tell him to travel safely — he'd been able to see it written all over the other man's face.

The Gerudo thief and the Hylian warrior stood side-by-side pensively, each to their own thoughts, before Nabooru grinned. Link didn't like that grin. "Last one to the oasis is a greasy lizalfos!" she shouted gleefully before tearing off towards the spring, barking with laughter. Her long legs had carried her half the way there before Link had even realized what was happening.

Needless to say, Link was the greasy lizalfos.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, and remember that I have a tendency to update faster when politely encouraged with reviews! :3


	7. six, part i

**Judgment Days**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.

**Warnings:** Language, light het

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** Ugh, sorry for the delay. I'm now a freshman in college and…well, let's just say things have been hectic.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter Six, Part I:**

_**if only, if only (you were mine)**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

His calloused fingertips drummed quietly along the polished surface of the mahogany table, dancing agitatedly to the notorious beat otherwise known as utter boredom. Slouched gracelessly in the stiff wooden chair, Link didn't even bother with the pretense of being vaguely interested in the on-goings. Instead, the agitated young man devoted his concentration to fiercely glowering at the thick, unwavering stack of papers neatly piled before the members of the council. He was half-hoping that they'd spontaneously combust.

Er, the papers, that is — not the council.

For the past four agonized hours now, the self-elected council had been steadily addressing important (and some admittedly not very important) issues. These included, from the rare occasion he actually paid attention, the continuing progress of the reconstruction, the flailing economy, and even the increasing number of monsters spawning near Death Mountain. Fortunately, as the sole representative of the elusive Kokiri, Link wasn't expected to do much (which had nothing to do with the fact that he was astonishingly politically challenged) but attend each meeting and obediently smile and nod, agreeing to do the council's dirty work. For example, he knew exactly where this particular conversation was headed.

"Well _honestly_," irately huffed the male Zora, his flinty black eyes narrowed as he stonily stared down the three Hylian members. "Are we really to be expected to go about it without any assistance? Truly, this is beginning to become _quite_ worrisome, Captain." He impatiently motioned for the pitcher of water to be passed over. The little Prince Ralis, nephew to King Zora, hurriedly fumbled for the handle to the jug. "I would like to remind you that it has been nearly three months since the King of Evil's defeat and yet, despite this, the Domain still remains encased in ice! Now, as winter swiftly approaches, are we to find any reprieve?" Watching him nearly guzzle down the entire pitcher was unnerving, so Link politely looked away.

Aveil loudly kicked her small, slippered feet up onto the table, leaning back in her chair and pillowing her head with her sinewy arms. Baring her teeth in a grimace, she exchanged glances with the second Gerudo representative, who's name was beyond Link. "All of the Zoras have been rescued," Nabooru's second-in-command countered, her bold eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. "Your people are fine, so I fail to see the problem."

"Fail to see the problem?" incredulously echoed the same Zora, voice rising dangerously, encouraged by the stricken expression on his female associate's delicate face, her hands poised in horror over her mouth. "Are you deaf? Did you not hear what I said? The Domain is _encased in ice_. How are we supposed to survive in such harsh conditions?!"

"My, my," murmured Aveil in an audible aside to her companion. "Must be tough, eh? Living somewhere so inhospitable and barren." They smirked with dark humor, pointedly ignoring Captain Viscen's groan of disapproval. "Too bad there wasn't a council around seventeen years ago when the Hylians kicked us to the wasteland. We could have bitched and whined about it there, and maybe they'd have kindly reconsidered our feelings."

Unable to help himself, Link burst into an inappropriate fit of laughter, much to the censure of both the Zora and the Hylian parties. On his right, Darmani was coughing noisily, at least _attempting_ to stifle his chuckles, and directly across from them, Aveil was basking in Link's reaction, grinning like a fanged predator.

"The impudence!" furiously hissed the female Zora, twisting in her chair to scowl at Aveil on her left. When he had calmed down, Link had to wonder who the hell had set up the seating arrangements; it was common knowledge that the self-righteous Zoras and the self-serving Gerudo didn't get along well. "How _dare_ you!"

"Ladies, please," Viscen desperately implored, curtly gesturing for Aveil to stop even as she opened her mouth to respond. "Now is not the time for petty arguments." Gravely, he pushed the stack of papers aside to steeple his fingers, turning to regard the still-fuming Zoras. "We sincerely apologize for not being able to immediately rectify this problem. However, as I'm sure I've reminded you, there is little that we can do, especially with such limited manpower."

The two older Zoras visibly composed themselves, their faces smoothing into blank, calculating masks. Quietly, Darmani hummed deep in his throat, watching the other delegates with an acute intelligence not normally associated with his lumbering race. "Brother," the Goron whispered in a low, rumbling baritone, "I think you're about to be volunteered again for 'community service.'"

"I know," sighed the young Hero, half-heartedly shrugging one shoulder. While he didn't mind helping, he'd only just returned from visiting Saria and Mido around dawn this morning and would much rather re-acquaintance himself with his barely broken-in bed.

The male Zora eyed Link. "I'm sure you could spare _someone _— "

"All able manpower is to be directed to rebuilding Hyrule Castle and Town," Lt. Ashei coldly interrupted, arms folded under small breasts. Her gray eyes steely, she stared hard at the three Zoras. "You understand the importance of restoring Hyrule's base of operations and marketplace as quickly as possible, yeah?"

"And there's a long list of things to be done after that," mused Auru, the third Hylian delegate, idly stroking his short, white beard. "The Lady Zelda must be officially crowned, let's not forget."

The Zora female rolled her eyes, shaking her head absently. "Yes, yes, but — "

"What the hell do you expect them to do?" demanded Aveil sharply, dropping her feet from the table and leaning forward menacingly, her hawk-like eyes flashing. "We all know that normal fire can't melt the ice, and it'd be absolutely idiotic to have the Hylians send a few dozen men to waste their time chipping it away with chisels."

Ralis flinched, but his partners squared their jaws and shoulders, expressions inscrutable. They weren't going to concede, and this meeting wasn't going to conclude anytime soon. Resisting the urge to sigh, Link glanced longingly out the window, wondering if Zelda, wherever she may be, was doing the same. _Sheik, the lucky bastard_, mentally groused Link, wishing for the familiar feel of wind on his face, of thick, unruly mane beneath his hands. _No one expects him to sit around in these stuffy rooms and listen to hours of pointless arguing. _He started guiltily, eyes jerking away from the window, because no one expected _anything_ from Sheik after the war.

"Agreed," he heard Ashei grunt. "Yeah?"

Captain Viscen was pinching the bridge of his nose, appearing as though he'd rather be haggling with Gerudo thieves than preside over the council a minute longer. "Yes," he wearily concurred, nodding solemnly. "Agreed."

The chair beside Link moaned piteously as Darmani none too subtly shifted his bulky weight. "The Gorons are also out of the question," he confessed sympathetically. He helplessly spread his large, cumbersome hands. "While it's possible we could burrow through the ice, there remains the critical detail that we…well, can't swim. I can safely assure you that Darunia would never agree to ask us to execute such a hazardous commission."

_He wouldn't_, Link thought. _He'd probably throttle the Zora who was stupid enough to suggest it_.

"Again," carefully began Viscen, shooting the Zora delegates apologetic glances, "we're terribly sorry for this great inconvenience, but at present we can't help you."

_Damn, here it comes_. This time, Link did sigh, eyeing the two older Zoras who were quietly murmuring amongst themselves, peering at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Between them, Ralis looked distinctly like he'd join Captain Viscen in haggling with Gerudo thieves.

A slow, deliberate smile spread across the female Zora's face as she smoothly stood, drawing the council's attention. Like all of her race, she possessed a surreal beauty very similar to Ruto's, with her silvery, nearly translucent skin shimmering gently in the artificial light. And now that she was standing and…and leaning over — _her palms on the table and her back arched and her slender arms framing her _—

Three seats over, an odd, strangled noise was elicited from Captain Viscen, his eyes impossibly wide and his ears burning furiously. Lt. Ashei, her lip curling in disgust, huffed and sent him a scathing glare. Auru, old enough to be Link's great grandfather, smiled pleasantly and watched the Zora attentively, seemingly unperturbed. Darmani too was untroubled by the Zora's blatant display of…well, of her assets, Link supposed. Across the table, Aveil and her partner were faintly frowning, intensely regarding the female Zora's chest with barely disguised resentment.

Link, meanwhile, was flushing ten shades of red, from the roots of his hair to his quivering Adam's apple, and begging the floor to open up and swallow him. _C'mon, _he internally hissed, addressing hormones that really shouldn't be this ecstatic. _Knock it off, goddamit_!

His hormones ignored him.

Mortified beyond comprehension, the Hero of Time (wielder of the _hallowed_ Master Sword, let's not forget), decided this wasn't appropriate behavior for a delegate of the Hyrulian Council, though whether he was referring to his behavior or the Zora's was up for debate.

"_Oh_, _please_," Ruto had lightly cajoled once, having had cornered him in the dimly lit, twisting corridors of the Domain. "_What's so wrong with admitting that I'm beautiful? It's not a crime._"

Link had nervously scratched his head. "_Ruto, I never even suggested that you _— "

"_Ha_! _Don't even try to pretend that you haven't been sneaking peeks_!" She had started to close in, forcing Link to straighten out his priorities. "_Listen, Link. I understand your dilemma_!"

"_Huh? I have a dilemma_?" He'd been seriously puzzled.

"_You never got the chance to experience these kinds of things_! _So it's only fair that I, being the caring, generous woman that I am, help you out_!"

That hadn't sounded promising. "_Um_, _what kinds of things_?"

"These_ kinds of things,_" she'd emphasized, demonstrating for him exactly what she was talking about.

"_W-what the — _?!"

"_It's okay if, you know…you want to touch them _— "

"_Interspecies sex between Hylians, Zoras, and Gorons is forbidden_," Sheik had deadpanned, hitting Link upside the head with his book as he breezed by, looking annoyed. "_Forget it, Hero_."

"_H-huh?! But I don't _— !"

Maybe Ruto was right, but even now it _still_ felt like a crime to think of the Zoras as beautiful (_or appealing_), especially due to the fact that they were…fish.

_Fish-people_, distractedly corrected his hormones.

_Not helping_, groaned Link. Wincing, he attempted to subtly shift his legs, stubbornly disregarding the toothy grin that Aveil flashed him. _Is there a reason that the Zoras are allowed to parade themselves naked_?

_Yes, two good reasons_! brightly replied his hormones.

"There is a way," she finally proposed as he grappled with his disobedient body. The long, lazy tone to her airy voice indicated that she was enjoying Viscen and Link's discomfort. "The blue fire, located in the caverns just beyond the Domain…it will melt the ice." She fluidly slid back into her chair, much to the relief of the two men.

Ashei muttered something under her breath before sharply elbowing her captain in the stomach, his breath leaving him in a great whoosh as he doubled over, coughing. Sneering, she addressed the Zora suspiciously. "Why haven't you mentioned the caverns before today? You better be telling the truth, yeah?"

"The caverns are not safe for exploration," softly responded Ralis, and though his expression crumbled under the frustrated glowers of the other two Zoras, there was a determined hunch to his shoulders that Link admired. "I would strongly recommend that we abandon the idea of employing the blue fire. The caverns are unstable and could capriciously cave-in."

"The caverns are ancient, my Prince," argued the male swiftly, "but have never caved-in. This is because they are supported by the — "

"Inside live many dangerous creatures," continued Ralis, his voice slowly rising to drown out his associate's. His bright, keen eyes glittered with empowerment. "They shouldn't be disturbed, if only for the security of our people."

"There are but a few minor — "

"And finally," Ralis breathed, holding up a hand to silence his cohorts. "We cannot calculate how deeply within the caves the blue fire can be found. I refuse — " here he calmly turned to stare at both the Zoras, " — to endanger any person, Zora or Hylian, by requesting them to take on such a task."

_Well done, little Prince_, mentally congratulated Link, smiling as the shy boy quietly sunk back into his seat.

"Please, please listen," pleaded the male Zora, meeting eyes with the stricken council, offering a winsome smile. "Ralis exaggerates! And we mustn't forget that someone _has_ done this all before!"

_Who, Sheik_? Link wanted to retort, but held his tongue as the two Zora delegates anxiously turned to him, reminding him that this wasn't just a game, or a ploy — they really _did_ need help, and it would be wrong of him to deny that. Following suit, the rest of the council too turned, with Viscen imperceptibly beckoning for Link to agree and Aveil directing a challenging smirk at him, her hand rolling over the hilt of her scimitar resting against her hip. Deciding not to prolong their agony, Link nodded. "Fine," he said. "I'll go."

Captain Viscen beamed benevolently at him and Ashei nodded her head once in pleased acknowledgment. Aveil and her partner exchanged amused glances and Darmani patted the Hero's shoulder. The Zoras were stumbling over themselves to thank him; Link's eyes were as round as saucers when the female crushed him to her chest, trying not to dwell on the fact that her breasts weren't only enormous, but were pressed intimately against his head and suffocating him to death.

_And what a way to die,_ sighed his hormones in gratification before he promptly told them to shut up.

Ralis looked defeated, but Link didn't have the chance to tell the poor kid he didn't mind going — the council was already moving on.

"That's very kind of you, Master Link," noted Auru, his weathered hand sneaking past Darmani's impressive mass to shake the resigned Hero's with a vigorous strength belying his age. "I'm sure if you ask, the Lady Ashei will accompany you; she studied the effects of the magical ice and snow on the Domain and would be of great help to you!"

The woman in question pulled a face and deigned not to reply. Link, who didn't know Ashei well enough to decide whether or not he'd appreciate her company, let it lie at that.

"Meeting adjourned?" hopefully inquired Darmani, already pushing back his chair. Link seconded the Goron's desire to escape the small room, and rolled his back, listening in satisfaction to the pop of shifting cartilage.

But, of course, luck was never on his side. Captain Viscen simply shook his head and gestured for the Goron and Hero to retake their seats, tugging the stack of papers over to him once more. "If only," he mumbled, before continuing in a much more professional tone. "Ah, no. I'm afraid that there is one last matter at hand, and a very serious one at that. I believe that it would be in our kingdom's best interest to immediately vote upon it and put it into action." He trailed off, furtively glancing at Link from the corner of his eye, brows furrowed in a calculating, speculative air that surprised the young man. The Captain of the Hylian Guard frowned unhappily. "…It has been brought up by…by a few _concerned _delegates of this council…that our monarchy does not yet have a…er…clear future."

There was a pause as he let that sink in.

"…Huh?" Link intelligently replied, face screwed up with obvious confusion, a confusion that was clearly reflected on the faces of both Darmani and Auru. Over the table, the Zoras and the Gerudo exchanged cool, approving looks, nodding briefly to one another. Beside Viscen, Ashei scowled irately, blotches of angry color flooding her pale face, and curled her fingers into fists.

The young Hero blinked owlishly, scratching the nape of his neck edgily. _What's going on_? _If it's this important, why didn't Zelda tell me about it_?

"You're going to have to elaborate, Captain," uncertainly admitted Darmani, peering at Viscen attentively, brown eyes clouded. "What exactly are you referring to?"

_Yeah_, silently thought Link, elbows thumping loudly on the table as he leaned forward, a dangerous expression crossing his face. Why was he getting the distinct feeling that he wasn't going to like what the Captain had to say? _What the hell are you talking about, if both the Zoras and the Gerudo are agreeing for once_? _What did they say_?

The man visibly faltered, shoulders hunched defensively even as he dolefully met their scrutiny. With a pained cringe, he responded, "My friends, as of yet, there is no heir to the throne."

Warning bells suddenly chimed in Link's head, bells that suspiciously sounded like Navi's familiar (and ritual) shout of a harried "Hey!" The type of "Hey!" that came a second too late as he blindly stumbled into danger and nearly got the two of them killed. Head spinning, he brushed his bangs out of his face and focused on the word _heir_ with a sense of wonder. As the rest of the council softly murmured amongst themselves (Aveil and Ralis were watching him _very_ closely), Link realized that Zelda hadn't told him about this because she hadn't known. "So," he began conversationally, trying to adopt Sheik's poker face and failing, "what does that mean?"

Aveil answered, her voice tinted with a hint of uneasiness. "It means that should the queen fall ill, become incapable of further ruling Hyrule, or die, that there would be no one to immediately succeed her."

"It would, of course," prattled on the female Zora, "result in mass chaos not only for the Hylians, but for all races under Hyrule's jurisdiction. I'm surprised that this issue hasn't been brought up sooner."

"Why would you assume any of that would happen?" snapped Link angrily, the warning bells pealing like a screeching wail that was blurring into a toneless ringing between his ears. Figurative hackles rising, he shot up, startling some of the representatives. "Why would you even _say _that?!" This was bad. This was _very _bad. Out of reflex, he blindly groped over his shoulder, as if the Master Sword could have solved this problem, cleaved it in two. The Hylians paled, noting his reaction.

"Please try to understand, Link," entreated Viscen carefully, eyes wide. "Aveil's only being hypothetical, and given what's happened in the past, I wouldn't say it's a far cry from what _could _happen down the road." There was a sad twist to his mouth as he rested his chin in his hand. "The point is that we be prepared for any such disaster. Hyrule is a stout kingdom, yes, but she will not stand long should her queen fall and there be no one to take up the crown."

Darmani's thick, trunk-like arms were folded across his broad chest as he nodded pensively. "I see. This problem was similarly voiced by the Gorons during the war. We feared that Darunia would be captured, or worse, killed by the King of Evil. After we discussed it with him, our chief agreed to take a woman to sire a child — Prince Link."

"_As a warning to those who might oppose him, Ganondorf is going to feed them all to Volvagia_!" the little Goron boy had bawled noisily, hanging onto Link's tunic like a lifeline.

"Precisely," remarked the female Zora, her hand dropping to Prince Ralis' head, where she fondly stroked his fin, much to the youth's obvious humiliation. "For example, take our people. Should King Zora die, Princess Ruto would be crowned queen."

"If Princess Ruto too were to fall," continued the male, "then there is young Ralis here." The boy squirmed uncomfortably, eyes flickering timidly, as if he were terrified of the prospect of ruling over his tribe. "And the same goes for the Gerudo! Nabooru now has that child as her heir!"

"Ridiculous," scoffed Aveil, flipping her thick hair back arrogantly. "The exalted Nabooru would never be felled by illness, age, or blade. (And _I_ would be her successor, not some snot-nosed kid.)"

"Oh?" the Zora female sneered, their temporary truce destroyed. Peering down her sharp, aquiline nose, she spat, "Neither would the great King Zora, for that matter!

The two Gerudo women roared with unbridled laughter at that, pointing incredulously at the fuming Zoras and slapping their thighs.

Link didn't share their amusement. _Zelda_…_needs an heir_? _B-but, doesn't that mean that…that she would need to_…?

"Anyway," loudly coughed Viscen, attempting to gather the whispering council's attention. "Now that we all understand the magnitude of our heirless throne, it is time to vote. I believe we're above anonymity here (or so I delude myself). All in favor of proposing to find an appropriate suitor for Her Majesty?"

…_to get married_? Dizzy and sick, Link watched in muted horror as hands lazily stretched into the air, hands that were putting forth a vote concerning a matter that shouldn't be under their authority. No, none of these delegates, these people, could understand what they were doing, probably didn't _want_ to understand, and their bored, dull expressions provoked a hungry anger in Link, one that longed to burn, to ignite. There was no real thought going into this decision, no consideration for the impact it would have upon Zelda — _Zelda, I'm so sorry, so sorry that I couldn't do anything, couldn't stop this_. Five out of ten hands, then seven out of ten until only Link and little Ralis remained, with the young Zora boy studying him anxiously, fins tentatively flittering until the male pointedly elbowed him. Shakily, the prince's hand rose.

"You can't!" cried the Hero adamantly, his disquieting outburst rocketing through the small chamber like an explosion. "You can't _do_ this!" Even Link realized how childish he sounded, but as the council's faces steeled, he petulantly clung to his resolve.

"This is politics," Ashei stonily reminded him, her shadowed eyes quiet as she closely regarded him. "We don't expect you to vote upon this, as a close friend of the queen's, but at the very least you need to use your head, yeah? Be rational."

"You don't understand," growled Link, slamming his hand down. Ralis watched in rapt fascination, sitting on the edge of his seat, while Aveil inhaled sharply, fingering her blade and licking her lips. "You can't just — "

"Arranged marriages are very common Link," explained Darmani unwearyingly. "Amongst royalty, it's to be expected. I'm sure that Queen Zelda will understand the need for an heir."

"No! That's not — " Things were spiraling too fast, too quickly for him, and Link was trained in the art of the battlefield, not the art of diplomacy. These threads of tact and negotiation were wrapped so tightly, and he couldn't cut them.

"Despite your personal issues," coldly interjected the female Zora, earning herself a surprising glare from Ralis, "this decision must be made with the sake of Hyrule and her people in mind. The queen must be wed, and she must bear an heir to the throne."

_No, no, no_! "Can't…can't you just _name _someone heir or something?!" hastily supplied Link, frantically wracking his brain for a plan. _Don't make her marry_, _you can't understand. Just don't_.

The Gerudo women howled with mocking, dark laughter. "Oh, oh!" cackled Aveil, amber eyes scornful as she gazed at him. "Nabooru would eat that up. I'll have to remember to tell her that the Hero of Time wants to _name an heir_ to the throne."

Link's hands curled into fists.

"Who the hell's qualified for that?" she continued, smirking. "How about the Hero of Time? That sounds swell, doesn't it?!"

"No," flatly disagreed Ashei, impassive as she stared at the opposite wall. "That would be a disaster, yeah? Doesn't even know the first thing to ruling a country."

Fortunately, it was so true that Link didn't have the heart to resent that comment.

"One of the nobles, perhaps?" menacingly persisted the Gerudo warrior, slowly standing, meeting Link eye to eye across the table.

"They'd all kill each other first," Auru miserably remarked, sighing sadly as he absently shook his head.

Sinewy arms rose into the air as Aveil held her palms up, shrugging in a feigned hapless manner. "Then _who_?" she hissed, hands dropping to the twin hilts of her scimitars. "Who, Link? Who'd you have in mind? The village girl who raises cuckoos? The dirty peddler begging for change? Your _chum _— the back-stabbing Sheikah?"

The pregnant silence was electric, loaded with averted eyes and thinned lips and no protests to an awful title that Sheik didn't deserve. In that pained stillness, overwrought and distraught, Link's face instantaneously smoothed over into a blank mask, eyes hardening with something voracious and grasping, something that both the Gerudo women recognized and knew. Darmani's steady hand, tightly wrapped around his rigid, locked right leg, held Link the waning _young man_ down firmly — held Link the _warrior_, hungry and aching and so _pissed off_, temporarily at bay.

He felt betrayed, betrayed that Aveil, _a friend and ally_, would attack him in this way, a way that did not involve the sword or bow.

"Ironic," he murmured softly, the edge in his eyes, dangerous and churning, not yet lost, "coming from a Gerudo."

"Please! Please!" yelled Viscen harshly, knocking his chair over as he swiftly stood, Aveil already half-way over the table, drawn blade in hand and teeth bared as though she were planning to tear Link's throat out with them.

Darmani ripped Link away in one motion, and caught the furious Aveil in the next, crushing them both to his chest as they struggled and spat and cursed. He glanced at Viscen expectantly.

"The council has spoken," wearily intoned the Captain, tossing his hands up in defeat. "Queen Zelda will be approached with the suggestion to be wed. This meeting _is over_."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sunlight stirred the dust in the empty room, pouring through the window and onto the worn table, exposing the fingerprints of the men and women who had only recently adjourned there. Link sat in his seat, staring blindly ahead, hands limp and forgotten in his lap. Lost in the white noise of his scrambled thoughts, he didn't notice the slow but steady progress of the sun. When, an hour later, he finally roused from his reverie, time had politely given way to late afternoon, and he found himself stumbling into the garish sun for the long walk home to Kakariko.

"Interestingly enough," remarked Sheik nonchalantly, leaning against the tree just outside the village and studying the river intently, "it's been over an hour and a half since the council adjourned, but only now does the Hero amble in."

"Has Viscen come by yet?" Link asked evasively, roughly rubbing his face with one hand as the other guided him down the tree until he was sitting beside Sheik. The other man, his eyes narrowing broodingly, gracefully dropped into a crouch and curtly shook his head no. The Hero groaned quietly, resting his head against the old bark. "Hey…how much power do they have?"

"And by 'they,' I take it you're referring to the council?" demanded the Sheikah sharply, and though this face was hidden behind the cowl, Link could tell his friend was scowling. "Why? What have those meddling fools proposed this time?" His face was turned away, scrutinizing the outline of Castle Town beyond its sturdy walls.

Link didn't answer right away; he was still jarred from both his unexpected fight with Aveil and his inability to protect Zelda from the desires of the council. Honestly, he was astonished at how disappointed he was that he had, so easily, lapsed into his natural warfare instincts. If Darmani hadn't been there to hold him back, he may have — no, _would have _— attacked Aveil. And, goddesses, the comment he'd made? Link groaned again, hiding his face in his hands and sinking further against the tree. _That's ironic, coming from a Gerudo_? he chastised himself. _What the hell was I thinking, saying something so…so…?_

…_Judgmental_?

His name was called softly, and looking up from his cracked, weathered hands, Link breathed out slowly, his breath coming out in little white huffs, visible in the crisp, chilly temperature of late autumn. Sheik was close, almost as close as he had been the night Saria's ocarina broke, and this close, Link could see the details in his red eyes, dark and thick like shed blood.

_But that's not the first time I've been judgmental, is it_? Hundreds of fleeting moments, violent flares of pent-up emotion, of stinging accusations and venomous condemnations. Of Link spitting malicious insults and Sheik returning, steadfast and true, regardless. And he always returned, didn't he?

"…Link." There was a pained nuance to Sheik's voice, and the young Hero knew, without breaking eye contact with the Sheikah, without refocusing his glassy gaze, that the other man was reading his thoughts again.

That's right, Sheik _always_ returned. Even when Link didn't understand, even when Link wasn't appreciative or grateful, even when Link hoped he wouldn't, Sheik returned. There was something about the small Sheikah — _dark, bloody eyes, slender body coiled like a snake, poised to strike, dangerous, he's dangerous and I _— and Link would never admit it, would never acknowledge it, but he was so, _so_, glad that Sheik was always there.

Sheik was structure in Link's world, he supposed. He wouldn't break if Link pushed too hard, but would push back with just enough force to give the Hero the balance he needed. He was a guide, an ally, a rival, and a friend. And now, when he had come back from the council, desperately needing help, desperately needing direction, Sheik had been here, patiently waiting for him.

_You know_, he thought quietly, almost a whisper, staring into the red eyes inches from his. _I think I take you for granted, Sheik_. _Thank you. I don't know…I don't know what I'd do without you_. Eyes, which were getting closer and closer, and their breath, now mingled in the small space between them. An imperious voice, like Navi's ringing or Zelda's amused but stern tone, telling him that something, something very important, was about to happen. Sheik's eyes slowly sliding from Link's eyes down to his mouth, closer and closer, breath fanning on his cheek, eyes half-mast, and —

"They're forcing Zelda to marry," Link answered, much too late or maybe too early. Sheik reeled, jerking back from where he had been leaning into the younger man, springing up onto his feet like a wounded animal, expression torn between guilt, disbelief, and confusion. Head swimming and heart hammering, Link blinked up at him, wondering what the hell had just happened, or rather, what the hell had _almost_ just happened. Still bemused, he touched his lips thoughtfully.

"You're certain?" hissed the Sheikah, reaching down and pulling Link up with unnecessary violence. He straightened his cowl, which was curiously lower than it had been earlier. "They decided today?"

Scrubbing at his bleary eyes, the Hero nodded. "Yeah, they voted on it. Seems like either the Zoras or the Gerudo brought it up — that there's no heir, I mean. Zelda's to be wed relatively soon, once they find an appropriate suitor," he elaborated, trudging off after the tense Sheikah as the smaller man hurried up the stairs to the village, taking them three at a time. "…I tried. I _swear_ I tried, Sheik."

Sheik paused, foot hovering over the next step, and glanced at Link over his shoulder. Turning around to fully face him, he sighed quietly. "I know," he murmured quietly, eyes soft. "You always do, Hero." For a brief second he hesitated, then, steel in his eyes, reached out and dragged a defeated Link over. An eyebrow quirked, he rested his forehead against Link's, mirroring his actions over a week ago, when they had been lost in the wasteland. There was something strangely comforting about the eccentric gesture, and the Hero slumped against his friend appreciatively, bracing his hands on Sheik's shoulders for stability.

"She'll do it, Sheik," Link whispered, heart wrenching into two. "She'll do it."

His friend smiled sadly. "Of course she will. If not because it is her obligation, then because she dearly loves this country and its people. Should the council propose that this is for the best of Hyrule, for the sake of Hyrule, she will readily accept."

Sheik's words sparked a sense of déjà vu in Link, and thinking, he remembered Zelda's own. "_He won't say anything_," she had heavily sighed. "_Sheik will accept whatever is decided without question, even if it does take away one of the very few things of value to him_." He glanced at the Sheikah, calloused fingers drumming along his hip, and then nodded to himself.

"Sheik, she depends on us," observed Link doggedly, shrugging off the overwhelming sense of defeat and anger that the meeting had left lingering in his heart. "We're her friends. _We're her family_. We need to help, somehow."

The small Sheikah regarded him silently, eyes studying him over the high rim of the cowl. Slowly, the corner of an upturned lip became visible, and the intense expression smoothly folded into something interested, something intent. His eyes spoke volumes where Sheik did not, spinning and racing red laced with calculation and anticipation.

Whirling away, Link started to pace along the narrow ledge of a step. "I tried explaining to them," he muttered, a flare of annoyance peeking through his determination. "There is no such thing as an appropriate suitor for Zelda. They could never find a man who she'd be comfortable with, regardless of what she'd tell them."

"The war was not easy on any of us, least of all Zelda," hummed Sheik in agreement, watching him march back and forth. "Not only would she have extreme difficulty trusting a strange man in a position as king, but I highly doubt that she would be able to have any type of intimate or sexual relations with him."

"That's why, my friend," Link growled through clenched teeth, shoulders hunched defensively as he glared at Castle Town, "_we_ need to find someone. Someone good. All the council's concerned about is finding someone with decent status and social standing. But we can't let them win this, Sheik!"

Sheik smirked, and there was a wildness there, a sharpness, that startled Link, that sent a spike of heat to his stomach, twisting and writhing. "I know. We won't."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** Wahaha, I love teasing my readers with an almost-kiss. Maybe if I'm encouraged enough, there will be more than just an "almost-kiss" next time! Until then, thank you for your patience and reviews! (Also: for those of you doubting that this is actually a Shink story, AKA Link x Sheik: trust me. The goods are coming. I promise.)


	8. six, part ii

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series unless I have been suffering from identity issues these past seventeen years of my life and really am Shiggy. But, I'm not.

**Warnings:** Language, light het

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** Wow, thank you for your reviews everyone! I apologize for not being as active as I should, but finals are coming up and my hands are tied. I'll try my best to get the next chapter finished as quickly as possible!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Chapter Six, Part II:**

_**if only, if only (you were mine)**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Next," he called brusquely, not even bothering to look up from the credentials he was currently leafing through, instead relying on the quiet, nearly inaudible hiss of breath from Sheik, who was perched on the arm of Link's large chair.

A tedious week had slowly passed since the night Viscen had come to their house, sat down at their kitchen table, and gently explained to their queen the need for an heir. Of course, by that time Link and Sheik had beaten him to the punch, providing Zelda with the means to compose herself and mull over the issue before the well-meaning captain visited.

"_Ah_," she had said, studying the careworn and haggard Viscen. "_I see_."

"_You're sitting in my seat_," Sheik had swiftly enlightened the captain a moment later, impressively looming with all of his intimidating five feet and six inches. Captain Viscen, an intelligent man, had realized he was being politely dismissed and had slowly nodded, leaving without another word.

"…_Um, that's _my_ seat, Sheik_."

"_Quiet, Hero_."

The next day, news had circulated rapidly, the rumor being that any eligible Hylian man could have a decent chance at marrying the renowned beauty Zelda, and earning the prestigious title of king.

"_Zelda_," Sheik had begun, pinching the bridge of his nose. "_Are you quite sure you're comfortable with this decision_? _I have my doubts about naming your future-husband the king of Hyrule_… _Why not just keep him as a consort_?"

"_My kingdom needs stability, Sheik, not a temporary fix_. _Also, I don't like this idea of a consort _— _of casting my husband aside once I'm pregnant with an heir_. _No man should be used, for whatever purposes, as but a tool_."

Together, Sheikah and Hero had battled tooth and nail to win the task of selecting a suitor, entailing long hours arguing with the stubborn council. Eventually, Captain Viscen had awarded them the duty, ignoring the furious Gerudo and the cursing Zora, secretly smiling behind his steepled fingers.

"_You are obliged to make a decision within reasonable time, gentlemen. Do not fail the kingdom_."

And on the third day, Link and Sheik had usurped one of the newly renovated buildings in Castle Town to begin the selection process. Lieutenant Ashei and Auru had taken it upon themselves to assign every entitled male Hylian a number and date to meet with the two young men, helping prevent chaos.

Each day progressed in a parallel fashion to the last. Link and Sheik would rise at first light and trek to town, prepared to tackle an onslaught of would-be suitors. Around seven in the morning, the men would arrive, as according to their number and appointment, and one-by-one, the picky Sheikah would mercilessly shatter their prospects with subtle body language Link had learned to search for. When Sheik leaned forward slightly, chin in hand and expression put-upon, that meant that the man was at least somewhat amusing, if not a complete and utter moron. If Sheik tilted his head to the side, seizing the suitor up with his intent eyes, that meant he was calmly considering painting the walls with this man's blood. On the _very_ rare occasion Sheik crossed his arms over his chest, almost defensively, then he was reluctantly finding the man to be acceptable, which Link would immediately take note of. Should the Sheikah roll his eyes, mutter anything unintelligible under his breath, or sigh, the man wasn't even an option.

Like now.

"W-what?" stammered Number 42 nervously, glancing from Link to Sheik wildly. "B-but, I just…I just walked in…" Indeed, the man hadn't even taken a seat yet.

"Are you deaf?" Sheik asked curiously, and uh-oh, he was tilting his head. "I suggest you quickly leave before I get creative with this paperweight, you bumbling excuse for a human being."

Number 42 fled in tears.

"Sheik," groused Link crossing off the man from his master list. "That's not a paperweight. Zelda made that for lunch."

Sheik just grinned.

Number 43 left in a similar manner.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Stop frightening away all of my would-be suitors, idiot boys!" snapped an irate Zelda, smacking them both.

"But it's Sheik's fault!" Link protested gallantly, sulking at the table and rubbing his abused skull. "He's the reason the men are complaining, not me!"

"I've no idea what you're talking about, Hero," Sheik replied airily, furtively dumping the queen's cooking in Link's boot when her back was turned. "Thank you for dinner, Zelda."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

" — er, well, I lived in the west side of town, before the war," answered the young man, shifting uncomfortably in the chair before their desk. Timidly, he glanced at Sheik, who was blatantly staring. "My mum and me used to run a shop. I took over after she died."

"I'm sorry," Link murmured sympathetically, though most of his concentration was centered on his companion, who had yet to make any movement or noise. This was…promising?

"Naw, don't worry about it," the man replied. "She died all peaceful-like, you know? Didn't even hafta worry about the war or nothing." He bravely smiled.

Thoughtful, Link tugged at the worn tassels hanging off the arm of the chair, scanning over the sheet of paper with the man's information. Twenty-two years old, grew up in Castle Town, father was a Hylian soldier, etcetera. "What kind of shop did you own?" he asked absently, distantly thinking of the bomb shop he used to frequent as a child.

"…Um…an adult kind of shop…?"

Their paperweight broke into tiny pieces against the door when Sheik threw it after the screaming man.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Groggily, Link stirred to whispered murmurings from the opposite corner of the room, his arm tingling pins and needles from sleeping on it. His eyes bleary, he focused on the wall in front of his face, ears picking up the loose conversation.

" — of course I'm afraid. I'm afraid that very shortly I could find an unfamiliar man in my bed. I'm afraid that I'm to be a mother, and that I'm not ready. I'm afraid that as Hyrule continues to surge forward, that the three of us are being left behind, tied by old reservations and old memories." A small sigh. "Yes, I'm afraid, but there will always be little fears in our hearts."

"Always," echoed Sheik's soft voice, somewhere by Zelda's bed or the window. "There are times that I…I wonder what will happen, if I'm to keep to this path or start another, if he's to be part of the new path, or if…"

"I know, Sheik."

"…We shouldn't fear the future, my Queen."

"I know."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Link yawned loudly, collapsing into his usual chair and dragging the pile of credentials over, flipping through them aimlessly.

"Long night, Hero?" teased Sheik, today taking up residence by the windowsill, no doubt eyeing the line of men waiting outside. There were dark shadows under his eyes, only heightening the sharpness of his gaze.

Shrugging listlessly, the young man ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "Seventy-three men and only eleven who passed," he muttered. "Maybe we're being too critical… The council won't be pleased, that's for sure."

The sound of knuckles rapping on the door, followed by a confident, "Hello?"

Glancing meaningfully at Sheik, Link straightened and smoothed back his bangs, all the while biting back a second yawn. "Let's try to give this one a chance, okay?" Sheik snorted, but gestured for Link to call the man in.

Number 74 swaggered into the room and slid assertively into the chair, not at all fazed by the resident Sheikah glaring at him. Surprised, Link offered the suitor an encouraging smile and read the credentials while the man introduced himself. Twenty years old, son of a nobleman, and distantly related to Nabooru. Wait, Nabooru? Eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, Link glanced up from the paper to study the man's dark brunette hair and pale skin before returning to said paper. The resemblance…didn't even exist.

"Oh really?" scoffed a suddenly dangerous Sheik, his eyes narrowed as he replied to something Link had missed. "That must have been wonderful."

"Oh yes," responded Number 74, and much to his embarrassment, Link realized the man had been staring at him the entire time while addressing the wound-up Sheikah. "Very wonderful. I imagine, Link — oh, and you don't mind that I call you Link, do you? — that you must have been very hot and sweaty, what with riding that horse of yours in the sun all afternoon."

Link blinked even as Sheik's face twisted into incredulous anger. "Uh, what? Sorry. I wasn't paying much attention."

Number 74 _giggled_. "The day of the parade! I remember that I had been standing just outside Castle Town with all the others, waiting for you and Zelda to make an appearance."

Link remembered the day well. He'd spent all morning pleading with Zelda not to make him trumpet about on Epona like the grand knight he wasn't. They'd been two hours late for the parade. "Sorry," he apologized, laughing a little. "You were probably waiting a while."

"Oh, I've been waiting a _very long time_," whispered Number 74, winking.

Sheik exploded. "_Get out_."

It took Link all afternoon to realize that Number 74 hadn't been a suitor for Zelda.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

In the end, they failed.

The two young men had narrowed down the prospective suitors to fifteen, whom they discussed with the compliant queen a month after they had begun their search. It was decided that the fifteen men would be introduced to Zelda, and that she would choose from that point on. Unfortunately, the plan didn't pan out exactly the way her friends has envisioned it. The afternoon the suitors were invited to lunch in their small, quaint home, it became horrifyingly apparent that Zelda was not ready to be married.

Link was seated on one of the steps of the step stairs, making small talk with two of the suitors, when a sharp movement caught his eye. Sheik, expression cold, had seized the wandering hand of a young man, which appeared to the Hero to have been moving in the direction of Zelda's knee. About to roll his eyes and dismiss it, he noticed the intensity in his friend's red eyes and thought that maybe the Sheikah was overreacting. That is, until Link saw the bleached pallor of the queen's face, the wide, child-like terror in her eyes. Inexplicable anger swelled in his chest as he rolled to his feet, angery that the man had upset Zelda.

Sheik kindly escorted the suitor outside.

The following fourteen men also were vacated before lunch could be served, amidst the loud, furious protests of Zelda, her face torn between guilt and frustration. "Sheik, stop it! It's fine! _I'm_ _fine_!"

Their home empty of any and all trespassers, the three sat silently at the kitchen table, lost in thought. Link could not forget the tight lipped smiles, weak and flimsy, that Zelda had tried to hide behind, nor the way her hands, now hidden in her lap, continued to shake.

"I'm fine," she murmured frantically, swallowing and trembling and smiling. "I'm _fine_. I'm ready for this. I can do this. I _must_ do this."

"Another day, perhaps," suggested Sheik lowly, soothing the anxious young woman with the quiet confidence in his voice. "Tonight, we sleep."

None of them slept. Instead, they sat together through the moaning night, listening to the winter winds and the cry of crows and the defeat echoing in their hearts.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She was breathtaking, his friend. Seated unobtrusively before the council, her hair swept off the pale arch of her long neck and into an elegant bun, Zelda met their gazes unflinchingly, face carved from stone. Now, Link came before her not as a companion, but as a delegate, his heart twisting and twining, as he, along with his nine brethren, decided her verdict. As the cowardly evening fled to the yawning maw of midnight, their meeting commenced.

"You have had more than enough time to decide upon a suitor, more than time was willing to give," the female Zora said, tone distant, as she addressed the chagrined Hero. Turning her square head to the queen, she continued. "The need for an heir is urgent, and we cannot waste precious days bumbling about, searching for the nonsense of love. It takes a Hylian woman nine moons to even give birth to a child, never mind the process of preparing for a wedding and impregnating Her Majesty. Tonight, it must be determined who the queen shall marry."

Zelda was silent, her earrings tinkling as she slightly moved her head, watching them.

"Seconded," droned Ashei, sliding some sheets of paper to Viscen beside her. "Here, captain. A list of the fifteen men found approvable."

"And we're to trust two boys' judgment on what's approvable?" the second Gerudo representative scoffed, exchanging glances with an unusually quiet Aveil.

Prince Ralis raised his head, the maturity reflected in his pale eyes belying his age. "Boys? Unfair labels," he clearly enunciated, looking each Gerudo in the eye, "for two men who saved the Zora race from our entrapment under the ice and slew the King of Evil." Both the male and female Zora nodded sagely, agreeing with his assessment, and Ralis smiled shortly.

"Here," called Aveil suddenly, gesturing impatiently. "Lemme see those papers, Viscen." She and her partner rapidly tore through each of the fourteen credentials, murmuring under their breaths and shaking their heads. Finally, Nabooru's second-in-command straightened, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Yeah, see this?" she asked, pointing at one of the papers.

"He's not an option," clarified the second Gerudo.

"Why is that?" Darmani curiously queried, blinking owlishly. "Are you familiar with that particular man?"

"Yes," Aveil replied simply, her tone clipped. "He's infertile."

"Which is why he's popular with the Gerudo women," elaborated her partner unnecessarily.

Helpless, Link could only sit back and watch as the remaining fourteen men were dissected and analyzed by the members of the council. Some joined the first to be immediately vetoed, while others were left aside for further consideration. All the while, Zelda sat like a marble statue, the pale cream color of her dress illuminated by the feeble moonlight, slipping in surreptitiously through the lone window. The unadorned circlet resting on her brow seemed so heavy, too heavy for such a small, unassuming young woman, sitting there and listening to men and women discuss her fate, play with her future.

"_They allowed you to refuse the marriage proposal_?" Zelda had quietly asked of Nabooru, what felt like ages ago, when their lives had been riddled but connected, not jumbled and distorted. Now, over a month later, Link understood what the queen had known, there in the oasis. She had foreseen this, had realized what would be requested of her. And yet, she hadn't mentioned anything, hadn't asked her two closest friends for help, hadn't wanted to burden them with her problems. She had been ready to accept her fate.

But maybe Link wasn't ready to let her.

"_Listen to me_," Sheik had hissed, imploring him not to only listen with his ears, but his heart. They had been gasping for breath after one of their many physical fights, outside of the house where Zelda lay dying of an illness Link didn't know how to defeat. "_You can't fight every battle, Link_."

_But she's afraid_! cried Link angrily. _She doesn't deserve this!_ _They can't just assign her a husband and tell her to have a child! Damnit, she may look like a woman, but we're just kids! We're kids and we don't know what the hell we're doing and she's afraid!_

"_Yes, I'm afraid, but there will always be little fears in our hearts_."

Even so, those little fears were easily conquered _together_. Link had to help, somehow, someway, to lessen this blow, to share the burden, to lead her where she had so many times before led him. And how could he not try? Together, they had plotted as innocent, meddling children, sneakily hiding beneath a windowsill and peeking hesitantly at the broad man inside, the man who would destroy everything dear to them. Together they had befriended a clever Sheikah boy, older and wiser than them, who later reunited them in the Temple of Time. Together they had survived the gross casualties of war, casualties that stole much more than life and happiness. Together for the past four months they had lived as friends, as family.

They were a family, a weird, screwy family, but a family nonetheless. Link would be damned if he let anyone hurt his family, even if it was Zelda, clinging to her duties and obligations as leader of her people. _He wouldn't let her accept this_.

"Then it is between these two?" Captain Viscen clarified, shuffling the papers and standing to approach an indifferent Zelda. "Let us make a wise decision."

They were a family, and families protect one another, but she was a queen, and queens protect their people. Link and Sheik, striving to assuage her duty by finding someone suitable, and Zelda, despite her blatant fears, desperately trying to soothe the worries of the council.

Link clutched his head, the thick, corded muscles in his arms seizing violently as he hissed out a long breath, glaring wrathfully at the table inches from his face. The urge to _scream_ was building within him, as the desire to protect Zelda from her duty threatened to overwhelm him. What was he supposed to do?! He couldn't just demand that the council drop their proposition and name an heir. Couldn't just jump in and clumsily save the day. He needed to help Zelda yes, but he also needed to look out for the wellbeing of the country!

_She's a child, and you're forcing her into something she's not prepared for. No man you choose will ever be able to understand._

"Then it's final," agreed Viscen to the queen, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they both regarded the single leaf of paper between her slightly quivering hands. Link's jaw dropped as he snapped to attention, horror pitting in his stomach. "We will allow…say…a month's time for preparation for the wedding. I believe it will be an excellent time to include Her Highness' coronation as queen, and we will, of course, induct this man as her king. Lieutenant Ashei?"

"Yes sir?"

"I would like you to double-check everything on this young man. He's noble-born, but I would feel more at ease knowing his background beyond what this paper reads. Well, then. I believe that this meeting is — "

"Wait," croaked Link, maladroitly standing and managing to knock his chair over. Head swimming dizzily, he raced through ideas and plans and opportunities, only to find no solution, no answer. "W-wait." The council regarded him in a mixture of sympathy and annoyance, with the Zora scowling and the Hylians sighing. Both Gerudo leaned forward, hanging on that one word he uttered, eyes glittering.

"Link, please," Zelda implored him softly, her expression pained and her tone colored with disappointment. "Pick up your chair and sit down. It has been decided, and I am ready."

So he did. Obediently, almost mechanically, he fixed his chair and slid into it, wrought with numb shock. The other nine members watched in approval before returning their attention to the captain, who cleared his throat. Frowning, the Gerudo sat back and crossed their arms over their chests, displeased.

"As I was saying," Captain Viscen continued, "this meeting — "

"Wait!" This time, Link didn't just knock over his chair, but dashed around the wide table, thoughts crashing as wildly as the blood pounding deafeningly in his ears. Desperation and frustration were often the catalysts to inspiration, and Link had been living side-by-side with a cunning Sheikah who fashioned ideas on the fly. He knew what he was doing.

The council did not.

"Lad, listen to the Lady Zelda and please take your seat," persisted Auru, worriedly glancing at a concerned Darmani. "There's no use in arguing over it. We know how you feel, but it's _decided_. "

Link paused in front of Captain Viscen, and there was a light in the other man's eyes, a light of recognition and surprise, one that was reflected on the faces of the two eager Gerudo. They understood.

"Link — !" began Zelda in aggravation.

"It's not decided," Link interrupted, his voice barely higher than a whisper, as he faced his friend, "until all the eligible Hylian males have been considered."

"What are you talking about, yeah?" Ashei demanded, lips pursed and brows furrowed quizzically as she, and the rest of the council rose to their feet.

Link dropped to one knee.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The delegates were in a fluttery state of astonished euphoria, their voices booming loudly and hands furiously shaking hands, accompanying the almost delirious laughter and the radiant smiles. Standing side-by-side, Link and Zelda accepted the warm congratulations of the council, relief and amazement painting both of their young faces. Apparently, while the council blanched at the very thought of Link inheriting the throne, none of them raised a single protest at the idea of Link marrying the queen.

"As long as he's not in charge," mentioned Ashei under her breath, shifting her weight where she stood beside her captain.

"Just think about it!" excitedly crowed the male Zora, clasping Viscen's hands. "The people will adore this arrangement! Their beautiful, intelligent queen engaged to their handsome, courageous hero! Oh, I simply _cannot_ wait to tell the king! How he'll rejoice at such a prosperous marriage!"

Prince Ralis, who was standing slightly in the shadows of his companions, groaned quietly. "Princess Ruto will not be pleased," he glumly pointed out, obviously the unfortunate victim who would be forced to listen to his princess' moaning and whining.

Sitting on the table casually, the two Gerudo women were deep in a wild, animated conversation. "Nabooru's gonna pay up big," Aveil cackled menacingly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Ooh, I told her. I _told_ her he was gonna do it. I knew that sucker was a sap for the queen."

"Yeah, you were right," agreed her partner, grinning maniacally. "Nabooru didn't think he was crazy enough to get married!"

"Well, he did!" declared Aveil, hands on her hips. "And she lost the bet!"

"Ah, yes," Auru proudly said, addressing Darmani and Ashei. "It will be a fantastic winter wedding! Perhaps we could hold the ceremony in Kakariko?"

"The castle should be completed in the next week or two," reminded Darmani sagely, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "The wedding could be held inside."

"That'd be warmer, yeah?" Ashei replied, nodding.

Link's head was spinning, round and round, and he was worried that once reality sunk in, he'd do something stupid like faint. But Zelda's hand in his was an anchor, tying him to the moment. Swallowing, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and she glanced back. Nervously, the grinned.

"L-Link, I…" the young queen trailed off, faltering. However, the combination of her relieved, happy smile and the steadiness of her hands, no longer trembling, told him everything she couldn't. _Thank you_.

"Hold on a second," he whispered, slipping away to approach Captain Viscen, who was mercifully alone. "Um, captain, would you mind if we leave? It's late and we still have a lot to plan, you know?" Strangely, he barely registered his mouth was moving he was so disoriented. In fact, he likened the feeling to being smashed drunk off of pints of ale.

"Of course not!" warmly replied the older man, his eyes crinkling happily. "Have a good night, Link. We'll meet sometime this week to talk about the wedding and your coronation as king."

"R-right," Link stammered, the word _king_ reverberating endlessly in his head. Waving weakly, he pivoted on his heel, grabbed Zelda's hand, and fled.

Outside, the lightest of snow dusted the cobblestone streets, the air brittle and cold between them as they stood awkwardly, face one another with a blend of speculation, apprehension, and giddiness. Finally, with an annoyed huff, Zelda threw herself around him and they burst into hysterical, incredulous laughter.

"Link!" she exclaimed happily, pulling back an arm's length. "You big dolt! I can't believe you! You…you…_you proposed_?!"

"It was the only thing I could think of!" he confessed, chuckling. "I couldn't just _sit_ there and do nothing while you married Number Whatever!"

Her expression softened, and taking his chin in hand, she stood on the tips of her toes and chastely kissed his forehead, smiling. "You're sure, then? Things will change," she warned gently. "You don't have to do this, Link."

"I'm sure," Link assured her. He loved Zelda as a friend, companion, and member of his family. Maybe he wasn't in love with her, but that wasn't expected of him. What he could do as Zelda's husband and friend was provide her with the support she needed to tackle her obligations as queen. To be honest, he _was_ nervous, but not afraid.

Neither was Zelda.

"Oh, the eccentricity of our relationship, my dear friend," she murmured into his collarbone, staring up into the moon, eyes bright, very bright. "The lengths you go for me are rivaled by no other, and I am extremely fortunate to be able to call you my fiancé."

"Engaged," Link mused aloud, thinking about a simple, gold band that had once adorned Malon's finger. Smiling wistfully, he chuckled again. "Yeah…eccentric just might be the right word."

"Come on! I'll race you to the village!" challenged the young queen, and then they were charging through the winding roads, between the restored houses and shops and alongside the shadowy alleys. Her shoes lay long forgotten somewhere in the snow. Their laughter echoing through Castle Town, they raced past their worries and concerns for the future, forgetting them, if only for the moment.

Link's boots clattered noisily against the old drawbridge as they sprinted into the field, the snow pillowing their weight until it was like they were flying. Being the fox she was, Zelda wasted no time by shoving him pitilessly towards the gurgling river, and as he struggled against gravity, arms windmilled wildly, she won the lead.

They came to a halt by the tree, doubling over to catch their breath, gasping harshly. Sweat was clinging to the nape of his neck and Zelda's bun had been reduced to a disheveled mess of honey blonde snarls. It was almost endearing, but mostly amusing.

"So," she panted, sitting down to rub at her sore, soon-to-be blistered feet. "You're going to be my husband, eh? Think you have what it takes, Mr. Kokiri?"

"Hm, I dunno. I can cook, how's that sound?" he replied cheekily, earning him a snort. Unable to subdue his goofy smile, he crouched in front of her. "Oh, and I hear I'm pretty good at the business of saving princesses."

Zelda smirked. "Are you now? And with those knobby knees and clumsy hands? Ha! You'd be lucky if you could save a fish out of water!"

"Fish-_people_," Link wryly corrected, giving her a hand up. Watching her struggle to balance on the pads of her feet, he playfully rolled his eyes and hoisted her onto his back as he had done with Sheik not long ago. Ignoring her brief flailing, he laughed at her complaints about her ruined dress. "Then you shouldn't have worn it, Your Royal Highness."

"I wasn't expecting to ride on the back of some self-proclaimed hero, Your Royal Pain," Zelda retorted smartly, gasping in surprise when he dashed agilely up the steps.

Their whiplash game of mock insults continued all the way back to the house, much to the aggravation of their neighbors. Link proved to be dexterously skilled with his hands, and managed to open the door without dropping Zelda.

" — telling you right now, I'm not doing your laundry," she was informing him as they stepped through the threshold, only to be met by Sheik, leaning against the banister with his book in hand. An eyebrow cocked in amusement, he snapped the novel shut and tossed it on the table.

"Looks like the meeting went well," he observed dryly, arms crossing over his chest. As Link shucked his boots off, he noticed that the queen had gone very still on his back, and blinked.

"Oh _damnit_," she whispered, voice husky with emotion. Zelda was staring at the baffled Sheikah, a look of dawning horror coveting her expression. "Oh _damn, damn, damn_."

Confused, Link released Zelda so she could stand, turning to face her quizzically. "What's wrong?" he asked, his good mood vanishing in the face of his concern. Sheik was hesitantly gazing at the Hero, asking with his eyes what had happened, but the young warrior could only helplessly shrug. "The meeting was great," he answered uncertainly, turning to the Sheikah. "Actually, you should probably know that Zelda and I are — mmph?!" Hands slapped unceremoniously over his mouth, and both men glanced at the frantic queen, who was hysterically shaking her head, eyes wide.

"Sheik, we need to talk," she breathed anxiously, shoving Link further into the kitchen to drag Sheik away. As the two headed outside, the Hero thought he heard her say something along the lines of "How could I be so stupid?"

And then the door slammed shut in his face, leaving him alone to deal with his confusion. "Uh, okay." Grimacing, Link scratched the back of his neck and headed upstairs, trying to ignore the feeling of worry.

Sighing deeply, he collapsed onto his bed, puzzling over Zelda's strange reaction to seeing Sheik. It was almost as if she had thought of something, realized something he hadn't. And what could it possibly have to do with Sheik?

Suddenly, he gasped and shot up, but then quickly dismissed the idea, rolling his eyes.

As he licked his fingers and extinguished the fluttering candle on the nightstand, he muttered, "I can't believe I even considered that Sheik might be in love with Zelda. How stupid."

And he fell asleep.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** For those who are still faithfully sticking with me, regardless of the plot twists, I thank you! And again, you _will_ be rewarded. If you have the time, please review and tell me what you think.


	9. intermission

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything recognizable of Shigeru Miyamoto or the Legend of Zelda series. Yet.

**Warnings:** language, violence, implied non-con

**Pairings:** Link x Sheik

**Author's Notes:** This is an intermission chapter that takes place during the Imprisoning War from Zelda's point of view. Some things to note: (1) this intermission fic will periodically change tenses/pronouns, and (2) dark!Sheik makes an appearance, AKA the tone here is reminiscent of chapter four. Thank you all so, so, SO much for your support, I love you all, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Intermission**

_**An Excessive Chain, Binding You to Me to You**_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Zelda entertained no foolish delusions of having misread Sheik's feelings regarding Link; she knew him too well. And how could she not? She'd worn his aching skin, sunk deep into his convoluted mind, breathed his every jagged emotion. He was the extension of her being, the shadow that licked her heels. He was her friend, her partner.

He was the single reason they had won the war.

Link's desperate and deadly quest across the vast expanse of Hyrule, her own nightmarish descent into the madness that was solely Ganondorf's twisted heart — all for nothing, if not for Sheik.

But Link would never know.

Hyrule would never know.

In the end, all things returned to Ganondorf.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She meets him on the eve of her father's death. He's a scrawny boy with too bony limbs, too sharp a face, too contemptuous of eyes. Without understanding why, she dislikes him.

"Good morning, princess," he says, and there's something sickeningly baleful in his voice, a voice smooth like velvet. When he smiles at her, it's a smile of knives, saturnine and derisive. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Indeed, as if to prove such a claim, warm sunlight floods the corridor and illuminates the blond crest of his head like a blinding crown. It's spiteful.

"No," she quietly disagrees, "it is not." Not when she hasn't slept in days for all the grisly premonitions haunting her closed eyes. Not when Link has yet to return from his mission while Ganondorf steadily gains more and more political leverage. Not when there's an odd, carnivorous-looking boy staring at her like he knows some humorous secret.

He laughs, seemingly amused by her answer. "I suppose it isn't," he agrees easily. "No not at all." Chuckling, he inclines his head politely and brushes by, continuing down the hall. But Zelda doesn't believe in coincidence or chance, feels that this boy is important somehow or someway, and turns around.

"Wait!" she cries, struggling against the shudder that snakes up her spine when he gracefully pivots, as if he had expected her to call after him. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Sheik," he answers. Red eyes strangely desperate, he smirks and adds, "Sheik of the Sheikah."

King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule is murdered thirty-two minutes later.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next time they meet, two years of bitterly incandescent war have passed and Sheik greets her by way of a cursed knife, driven artfully through the tender flesh of her breast. Absently, obscenely, she hears herself wondering aloud if this is how her father died, staring up into the flat, red eyes of a monster wearing a boy's façade. Her fingers feebly grasp at the knife hilt, buried in her with nauseating intimacy, but she acknowledges that it's pointless. And Zelda knows that she will die here on the outskirts of the Sheikah war camps, here in this disease-ridden field where the bodies of the dead have been stacked high to burn, stacked high like her countless failures. She will die here, and maybe her death will be deliverance, maybe it will be punishment, maybe atonement.

Here at the end of a cruel knife of an equally cruel boy, Princess Zelda will die and very suddenly she wants nothing more than the comfort of home.

"I want to go home," she haltingly admits through bluing lips. "P-please, I just want to go back home."

The knife is ripped clumsily from her chest, tearing open once flawless skin now ripe with wet blood. Between his raspy breathing and her cowardly confession, there is a terrible frozen moment where she believes she sees something quite akin to yearning in his expression.

That's when he smiles, very gently like, and responds to her admission by releasing the curse that would kill her.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Zelda would remember that particular smile of Sheik's, would reflect on the events in her life that had fashioned her into the woman she was today — _the sickness eating away mommy's flesh, daddy's cold corpse lying in the pool of blood, the pyre of bodies and the smell of flesh stripped by flames, the knife in her chest so warm and slippery, the broken body of a broken boy not unlike the dolls she'd played with as a child, meeting Ganondorf behind Sheikah eyes, oh gods Ganondorf, Ganondorf, Ganondorf, with his hands on her body on Sheik's body in their body, oh gods oh gods oh gods, please hurry Link — _and with that particular smile of his in mind, she knew that Sheik had resented her for having a home to return to.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"What a view, what a view," Sheik humorously gurgles somewhere close by-far away in the veiled fog of her semi-conscious state. "Just in time for the show, so let's watch Her Majesty die together, shall we, mother?"

There is a sickening crack. He does not speak again.

"Impa, we're losing the princess."

But no, Zelda wants to protest, she's not lost. She can't be lost, because she's returning home. Mother and father are waiting for her with beatific smiles, and she likes to think that maybe Link is as well, with that lopsided, contagious grin of his.

"Improbable. Such high level magic would instantly kill an animal. I also believe that it would be unwise to perform the spell on our own bodies when it is unlikely that the ritual would be successful."

"Agreed. We would not be able to host the princess's soul."

"Ah, but the boy could."

With each agonized beat of her struggling heart, her chest grows tighter and tighter, wrenching taut circles around the gaping hole between her nipples, a parody of a clock, ticking her life away. It hurts so badly.

"Your decision, Impa?"

"…Do it."

It hurts so badly, and she wants to scream, she wants to cry, but she can't remember how anymore in this space of here and nowhere, and she realizes that she isn't going home because she's dying, she's dying, she thinks that she's dying.

Zelda does not want to die.

"W-what're you doing? No. _No._ Get a-away. _Get away from me_."

This is the last memory Zelda has of her body: Sheik's blood slicked hands curled unwillingly in hers, his hot, furious tears spilling down his sharp nose and dripping on her pale lips, his expression knotted in malice. He screams hoarsely, "Why do you keep forsaking me!?" but there is no voiced response. Her vision darkens.

When she next wakes up, it's as a sixteen-year-old Sheikah boy.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It is the second day.

Naked, she stands before the cracked mirror and stares at the reflection. A hand tremblingly reaches up to caress an angular cheek, slides down to touch a flat chest, further down to square hips, to the unfamiliar weight between long legs.

_Don't_, he bites out, but because she's a child she does it anyway.

Repulsion churns her stomach at the alien sensation of a maturing body responding in ways that she doesn't yet understand. Suddenly, gazing at this reflection, she wants nothing more than to claw the flesh from these bones, to tear the skin from this face and sew her own back on. She is sickened, she is afraid, she is lonely.

"Do you hate me?" she asks.

_Yes_, he replies, because after all, he too is a child.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It is the fourth day.

The night is choked with unspoken accusations and still-lingering questions, hovering menacingly over them like a thick, black storm cloud. She lies stiffly on her belly, nails digging angry crescents into her palms, and tries to ignore this body's disquieting, itching urge to roll over into a less vulnerable position. Against the sensitive, paper-thin fabric of her mind, she can feel the tumultuous whiplash of Sheik's emotions, hot and blinding, as he watches from behind her eyes. The vindictive hush of his thoughts frightens her, makes her want to scream to fill the eerie silence between them, and despite her bone-weary exhaustion, she cannot sleep.

Wordlessly, patiently, he waits.

Ultimately, she grows tired of his passive psychological warfare and unsteadily climbs to her feet, swaying precariously for a few seconds as blood rushes from her head. The flap to the canvas tent swishes behind her.

Sometime after midnight, Impa finds the young princess seated on a crumbling dry-stone dyke, arms wrapped tightly around knobby knees, staring up into the heavens with Sheikah eyes. The woman joins the children.

"Good evening, princess," she murmurs, leaning against the stone wall. "Good evening, Sheik."

The impartial greeting startles both children. In a moment of rare vulnerability, Sheik exudes an odd mixture of spiteful suspicion and frantic longing before he clams up, withdrawing into the furthest corner of his mind, snapping and spitting like a cornered animal.

Quite soon, the telling silence becomes oppressively pregnant, laden with tension and suppressed emotions. When Impa curiously cocks an eyebrow, Zelda finally replies, "You would greet my father's murderer on the same breath that you would greet me?"

To her disbelief, Impa's lips quirk up in response. "Ah, but you see, princess," she begins, and her smile is sad, "there are no murderers in war. There are only instruments, and those who play them. It is no less true for you and I."

Zelda is breathless with incredulity.

Then Impa gently asks — and it's awful really, how easily this woman breaks him — she asks, "Play any instruments, lad? You've the hands of a musician."

There is a single shocking moment, quiet and serene and lovely, that the three will share before Sheik reacts to Impa's inquiry. And after the moment has dissipated, he will yank control from Zelda, bare his teeth in a feral snarl, and scream that he doesn't need her manipulative silver lining. He'll scream that he isn't an instrument, that they're fools for thinking that he did not readily participate in this war, and no, he _is_ a murderer you bitch, and don't you dare dress it up and pretend like it wasn't your fault — !

But before that happens, there is a moment where Sheik will pretend that he doesn't remember this woman as his only family, and where Zelda will finally see with her own eyes Sheik for who he really is.

And she will be heartened by what she sees.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Any attempt to hate Sheik had been, admittedly, pointless. Every day, every hour, every second of time passed was time passed together, and despite tenacious efforts to shield their minds, stray thoughts and emotions continuously leaked through. It had been like absently listening to a foreign language while trying to make sense of distorted images in the corner of your eye, flashing from black and white to color, varying from painfully abstract to too vividly concrete. They had grown to know one another on alarmingly intimate levels, in ways that they had not known themselves.

She would be lying to herself if she claimed she did not miss sharing his body.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It is the fifth day.

Long after the somnolent sun has set and Impa has retired to bed does Sheik continue to practice with his new harp. Despite the crushing power of the seal, he obstinately refuses to relinquish control of his body to the princess until the melody, which Impa painstakingly taught him, is mastered. Zelda knows that his limbs are quivering under the strain of the magic and tries to understand why this is so important to him.

When at last he perfects the song, he carefully sets the harp at his feet with shaking fingers and then buries his face in his hands. The heel of each palm presses firmly against his eyes, denying the wetness that has collected there.

_Sheik_, she calls tentatively, uncertain of what to say even as she instinctively reaches through the layers of darkness and tangled thoughts that separate them.

"…You don't understand the concept of _shut up_, do you, princess?" he remarks wryly, surprising both of them with the lack of animosity in his tone.

Zelda awkwardly half-smiles. _Well, as long as we have that established, would you mind terribly if we ate something_? _I'm quite hungry_.

Sheik sighs, but behind the cowl, his lips are twisted into something not unlike a smile.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It is the sixth day.

"Please, Sheik," she implores, "I need to know. So please, tell me why."

_And then_? comes his sharp reply. _Have you deluded yourself into believing that my reasons will present you with the conviction you seek? That perhaps they'll give you closure? Wake up, princess._

She had been expecting his vitriolic scorn. "Enough! The truth of the matter is that you're just as desperate to know my reasons as I am to know yours; it's only natural, I suppose, considering our situation. Unfortunately for you, I asked first."

He snorts, and she imagines that, if he could, he would roll his eyes. _Fortunately for you_, he returns with some amusement, _I am sealed within my own mind and am currently unable to wring your damn neck_. A pause. _By the way, what did they do with your original body_?

Plucking at a patch of grass, Zelda sighs; she knows him well enough to know when he's deviating. "Sheik, please."

_Gods_, he mutters, _to have this conversation with some twelve-year-something chit_. Then, louder — _Power, princess_.

"What?"

_Power, I said. You wanted my reason, didn't you_?

"That's your reason."

_Was that a question? Oh, you're quite angry, aren't you_? He's laughing at her, she can tell. _My, my, look at you storming about so dignifiedly. My lord did your country a favor by dethroning you, I think._

They both know that is not what he thinks. Nevertheless, her fists curl at her sides.

_Really though_, he continues in a more serious tone, _what were you expecting? Were you hoping I'd tell you that Ganondorf had extorted me into joining him? That I was coerced into murdering your father that night? _He echoes her sigh. _What a hopeless little fool you are._

"You're despicable," she informs him through clenched teeth. "You're absolutely terrible. How could I possibly have — " Trusted you, but it doesn't need to be said.

Sheik is uneasily silent.

"Fine then!" she snaps. "Explain to me the logic behind your decision! You couldn't have honestly believed that Ganondorf would share power with you. Gods, don't you see that you're nothing but a tool to him?"

_Thank you for enlightening me, dear princess_, he drawls, unimpressed. _With such wisdom, I can see the error of my ways and cease my evil —_

"Stop." His sarcasm is too much right now. "Just, don't."

There is a significant pause.

_In any case_, Sheik says curtly, _I have given you my reason. Therefore, if you would be so kind_…

Mechanically, she hisses, "Because what Ganondorf is doing is wrong — "

_Oh, shut up. I'm not interested in that childish nonsense. If you can't at least be honest with yourself on the matter, you have no right to claim tenure of the throne. Now try again._

Her lips twist in a grimace. "…Because I must avenge my father — "

_Princess, please. While perhaps it's true that your father's death may have motivated you in the onset, we both know by this point that, against your better judgment, you no longer seek to extract revenge upon me. And before you respond, do spare me the lie that you're doing this for your people._

"But I — !"

_I know, princess. I understand that your devotion to your people and kingdom is genuine. However, I am only interested in your selfishness, you see._

Zelda thinks about the war, about her dead father and her dying people, about her duties as a queen and her pride as a woman-child, about the prophecy and her visions. She thinks about the truths and untruths that her time with Sheik has taught her. She thinks about the ugly desires she has concealed deep within her heart, desires she has pretended do not exist, and the answer is clear, so obvious, but she doesn't want to admit it, least of all to this boy.

"Because I made a promise," she says quietly, feeling sick, "to someone very special to me."

_Who_?

She smiles and wonders why she feels like crying and replies, "To a hero."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

If only she had known. That breezy morning, as she had stood in the cold, stale sunlight and awaited the report from Impa's regiment, she had spoken honestly with a boy-turned-traitor-turned-prisoner-turned-companion. They had exchanged dark, unpleasant secrets there, and she had not understood.

Because when Sheik's voice had whispered in her mind, _Power, princess_, she would not realize until years afterward that he had not meant that he desired to possess power, to control, dominate, and exploit like Ganondorf had before him.

No, because when Sheik's voice had whispered in her mind, _Power, princess_, she would not realize until years afterward that he had meant that he desired to be possessed by power, to be controlled, dominated, and exploited like he had been with Ganondorf.

And this wasn't some flimsy whim. Sheik craved this on carnal levels that would take years and years to break.

Indeed, if only she had known, she may have never brought up the Hero of Time at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"This is insane!"

" — a suicide mission, I would think."

"There is no guarantee that Ganondorf will not notice — "

"Quite honestly, we cannot trust the boy."

" — you know, it's so asinine that it just may work."

There is an immediate halt of the soldiers' protests at a brusque signal from Impa. Standing motionless by the meeting table, she fixes calculating eyes on the princess and asks, "This is your will, Your Highness?"

"Yes," calmly answers Zelda with an air of quiet authority that sobers her men. "I can no longer remain here when my country is savagely ravaged and my people mercilessly slaughtered. It was unforgivable of me to remain here so idly for two years." She evenly meets the surprise of her soldiers. "I will return to Hyrule in this body and hide myself at the breast of the enemy, working from inside Ganondorf's network to end his reign."

"But, Your Highness," weakly argues a young man named Viscen, "if the boy does not reveal your true identity, then surely Ganondorf will know you for who you are. Please, I beg of you to reconsider."

"No," Sheik lowly hisses, and the substitution is physically evident; he holds himself with lofty disdain, staring the men down with narrowed red eyes. "Listen carefully, because I will give you this and only this — " He disregards the horrified cries of the soldiers and the unpleased speculation of the Sheikah, all of whom are appalled and stunned that he is able to overcome the seal. " — I will protect the identity of your princess as so long she upholds her end of the bargain."

Impa's lips thin, but it is another Sheikah woman who speaks. "Bargain? What are the terms of this bargain?"

"I'm afraid," Zelda begins, "that the terms are between Sheik and me. You must trust my judgment on this."

A chair clatters to the floor as the lieutenant stands. "_Ridiculous_!" he bellows, face splotched red. "That Her Majesty should have to agree to some _bargain_ with a traitor is ludicrous! The scum should be grateful that — "

"Remember this!" snarls Sheik, all figurative raised hackles and bared fangs. "After this war is over, I will owe you fools _nothing_!"

That was, of course, because by the end of the war they would owe Sheik everything.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Speechless, she tremblingly sinks to her knees. Slop noisily sucks at her splayed limbs, popping and hiccupping beneath her as it gleefully sullies their clothing, a detail that only Sheik seems to notice. The consternated princess can do no more than gaze haplessly about her, lips parted and eyes wide, unable to reconcile what her vision perceives with what she remembers as home. Permeated with the thick stench of death and decay, the air hangs heavily on her shoulders, bowing her back as she gags, frantically flattening the cowl over her nose and mouth. The deadened earth hungrily soaks up her tears.

_You'll have to tone down the theatrics, princess_, Sheik reminds her. _Ganondorf has eyes in every crook and cranny of this wretched country_.

Zelda shivers. _All this time_, she says in an aching whisper, _I've been cowardly hiding in the war camps. Gods, this is my country, these are my people. What has that madman done_?

The twisted sky churns suspiciously above them.

_Princess _—

"No," she interrupts, aware of his intentions to take over, "this is my task, Sheik. I must see with my own eyes the product of my failure. If I cannot do even that, I am not fit for the throne."

Sheik's cool, wordless approval warms her. _It will only get worse_, he points out, not for the purpose of discouraging her, but of preparing her. _This is but a taste of what Ganondorf has delivered upon your country_.

She stands. "I will do this. I _must_."

_Very well, princess_, he purrs, pleased. _Do keep in mind that, if it seems to me that you will be unable to fulfill our agreement, I will rip your soul out of my body and kill you myself._

_I know_, she responds. _I promise you, you will meet Link_.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She learns that there is only one truth in this wizened husk of a country. Chillingly pliant, Sheik slowly slides down into a reverent kneel, his burning red eyes gleaming with something fervent, something _possessed_. He trembles in a mixture of anticipation and rapture, lowering himself until he is bowed over a metal-plated boot, which he kisses. And Zelda understands. She knows now that she will never again so dismissively judge him for his decisions and actions during this war. Indeed, even as Sheik prostrates himself on the ground like some cheap whore, every fiber and cell in her being longs passionately to do the same with an animalistic intensity that terrifies and excites her.

_Yes_, Sheik laughs, and it sounds more like a sob, really, _you see, don't you_? _You finally see._

She does.

Because kneeling there before the twisted, gnarled throne, no more than a mangy mutt crawling on its belly with its tail between its legs, Zelda learns that one particular truth, and stares out from behind Sheik's eyes into the sunken amber ones above.

She learns that Ganondorf is not a man. He is a _god_.

"I must admit, Sheik," the King of Evil drawls lazily, and the deep, powerful timbre of his voice resonates through the gaping chamber, sending shivers ghosting teasingly down their spine, "I was beginning to believe that you had abandoned me."

"My Lord," whispers Sheik, and Zelda realizes that she really does understand. She understands what Sheik's doing and why. She understands that she is about to lose everything, from this war to her life to her partner, because she can taste his desperation and despondency on her tongue. He is about to betray her, because betrayal is all he's ever known and it has been the only constant in his life.

But Zelda is not Impa, and she will not forsake him.

_Sheik_, she screams, and seizes his mind in a clawed vice, pouring herself into him. _Sheik, Sheik, I understand, I know. You were orphaned during the Great War and adopted by a Sheikah woman named Impa. You loved her as your own mother. But when she swore fidelity to the King of Hyrule, she made the decision to leave you with a Sheikah couple. You never forgave my father for stealing your only family._

Ganondorf's lips curl into a slow, deliberate smirk. "Tell me," he cajoles mockingly, "where has my little canary been this past week?"

_Sheik, I know. You were hurt and afraid and alone. You ran away from Kakariko, and that was when you met a young Gerudo prince. He was strong and clever and confident, and you were searching for unconditional acceptance, frantic for a place to call home and someone to call family. You couldn't have known the dark path that prince would lead you along, and even if you had, you still would have taken his hand. But there's something you don't know, someone who I wish you had met instead, if it had been possible._

"My Lord — "

_There was a baby orphaned by the Great War, just like you. His father, a common soldier, was killed in an ambush. His mother, a beautiful noblewoman, died trying to save him. The baby's name was Link, Sheik._

" — there is something you should know. Princess Zelda — "

_There was something very special about that baby. He was the prophesized Hero of Time, the one who would open the doors to the Sacred Realm, would take the legendary Master Sword in hand, and vanquish Hyrule's evils. Since I was young, I have seen visions of him in my dreams, but you see, Sheik, Link is so much more than a prophecy or a hero. He's like a gravitational force, drawing everyone in. I think he'd like you, Sheik. I think he'd smile at you and laugh and call you a friend, because that's who he is. He's not a king or a hero or a god. He's just a boy, and he's going to defeat Ganondorf. Did you hear me, Sheik? Link is going to win._

"What about her?" Ganondorf demands dangerously, and the smirk has faded.

_We made a promise didn't we, Sheik? We're going to see Link when he awakens._

…_soon, princess_?

_No, not yet. But until that time, remember that I am here with you. I won't forsake you, Sheik._

"I must apologize," regretfully replies Sheik, face carefully blank, "but I was presented with an auspicious opportunity to kill the princess. She was alone on the outskirts of Termina territory and although I stabbed her with Koume's knife, I was unable to release the curse before her Sheikah entourage appeared. I have failed you, My Lord."

_That's good to know, princess_, he weakly quips as Ganondorf's expression twists in frustration and displeasure, _considering our souls are bound in the same body_.

_Thank you, Sheik_.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Many hours after Ganondorf has left, after the sharp pain between her shoulders has faded to a dull throb, and after the semen on the back of her thighs has dried, does she remain naked and splayed out on the dining table.

_Princess._

_Princess, I warned you that it would only get worse._

…_Stupid girl, get up._

_This is your own fault._

_You should have given me control when I asked for it._

_Princess, please._

…_I'm sorry._

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Five years pass.

Zelda has little desire to recall them.

Sheik forces himself to. _Penance_, he says.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Temple of Time is ethereal in its simplistic beauty. Lightly ascending the ancient steps, feet stirring years of slumbering dust, they gaze at the empty pedestal. Her chest constricts painfully at the sight, and breathing deeply to calm herself, Zelda consequently sneezes, breaking the moment. Sheik snorts.

_So this is it_, he muses. Beneath the surface of their skin, he is restless with despairing expectation and high-strung anticipation, his ragged emotions rolling through her wave after wave. _A hero, huh_? _I wonder, that_.

Zelda doesn't respond to Sheik's defensive cynicism. Anxiously, she circles the chamber and calls to mind the vision that had interrupted their sleep only hours earlier. Today, Link would return from the Sacred Realm. Suddenly self-conscious, she fretfully fiddles with a loose wrapping around her wrist, tugging and yanking on it until Sheik snaps at her to stop.

_What's the problem, princess_?

She chuckles humorlessly. _When I saw Link last, I was fleeing my country, abandoning both it and him to Ganondorf's twisted will. Seven years have passed, and yet here I am — a coward hiding in your skin. That nothing has changed, that I am still uselessly_…

Outside, the wind moans importunately, clawing at the single, stained-glass window.

…_It pains me to think about how he must see me_, Zelda quietly concludes._ First, as a silly little girl, then as the neglectful heir to the throne, and now he will only know me as a man named Sheik._

_You_, begins Sheik slowly, _love him_?

What a peculiar question, Zelda thinks. Of course she loves Link. She loves his smiling face and his playful laughter and his childlike naivety. She loves his too-big hands and his adolescent clumsiness and his mischievous side. She loves him like she loved her father, like she loves her kingdom, as she loved her family, because he is family, he is a friend and a comrade and a brother.

Once upon a time, she may have entertained idle fancies of romance and marriage, but once upon a time was so devastatingly distant now, and Zelda is no longer the blithe girl from the courtyard.

_I see_, her partner replies in a tone that indicates he does not. _He is nothing more than _—

The fine hairs on the nape of their neck prickle. Spinning around, Zelda watches in awe as the very air vibrates, humming with arcane energy that floods into the Temple of Time. Powerful magic pools in loose circles around the pedestal, forcing them to their knees with the rippling whirlwinds rocking the small room.

_He has awakened_, she cries, bracing herself as another shockwave slams into them. _Gods, he's finally come_!

She's unconsciously expecting Sheik to make a dry remark pertaining to dramatic entrances, but he is uncannily silent. Before she can call out to him, light explodes throughout the chamber with a crack, dizzyingly blinding, and just as swiftly recedes.

And there, stumbling in apparent disorientation, is a young man that Zelda does not know. Heart twisting in dismayed disappointment, she withdraws into the shadows to watch this stranger who wears the mask of an old friend.

The Hylian man, having reestablished equilibrium, studies his new surroundings with a pensive expression, the stiffness of his shoulders betraying his unease. There is a terrifying contrast between her Link's cheery smiles and this man's calculating frown. She recoils from his sweeping gaze.

Absently adjusting his baldric, the man nods to his fairy companion before heading down the steps, pace strangely uneven, as if he were unaccustomed to a longer stride. Slumped wearily against a pillar, she watches him leave.

_Who is that man_? brokenly whispers Zelda. _He is not the Link I once knew_.

_Get out of my way_, Sheik breathes, and it's her only warning before she is roughly flung back, their body jerking in response, as he smoothly slides into his limbs. Noiselessly, he slips into step with the man, expression dangerously intent, and follows him.

Suddenly, Zelda wonders if she is a fool for trusting Sheik.

Petrified, she hurls herself at the invisible wall he has constructed between them, and screams, _What are you doing_!? _Sheik_!?

Sheik flicks his wrist; the knife she knows personally is in his hand now.

_Sheik!_

But the man pivots on his heel just in time, effortlessly meeting Sheik's advance with the silver gleam of the Master Sword's steel. Appraising each other over the blade, Zelda is bewildered to feel her partner's unfurling admiration and approval.

_A hero, huh_? Sheik softly repeats. The knife disappears back into its hidden sheath. _I think I understand, princess._ And then, aloud, he says, "I've been waiting for you, Hero of Time."

Hard, cold eyes stare them down. Gently, Sheik leans into the Master Sword's embrace, the blade gliding along the column of their throat, and his own eyes are lidded. Zelda is appalled, because Sheik's masochistic behavior is something she had associated with Ganondorf, and yet —

"Oh, sorry," sheepishly laughs Link in a voice that is coarse from disuse. Sheik shivers, eyes widening in surprise, and the sword is lowered from their neck as Link's entire demeanor easily shifts from detached warrior to friendly acquaintance in a heartbeat. "I'm not late, am I?"

Zelda nearly sobs in relief.

_This is your hero_, comes the not-question in odd, subdued tones.

"I'm Link," continues the Hylian amiably, proffering a hand.

…_He'll do_. "I am Sheik. Sheik of the Sheikah."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Whoa, hold on!"

Sheik rolls an ankle in his haste to do so and pauses, glancing over their shoulder to curiously regard Link. _Ganondorf is expecting us_, he reminds her unnecessarily. _We can't be late._

Zelda is puzzled. _Um, yes. Is there a reason why you can't warp to the castle_?

"Hey, Sheik!"

_Oh_, she says dumbly. _Well, I doubt he'll hold it against us. We really must be going._

_But princess, he _—

Belatedly, Zelda realizes that Sheik would rather remain here in the Sacred Forest Meadow with Link than return to the castle to Ganondorf, his lord and king. Warmth seeps into her, but instead of the triumph she would have expected, she only feels pleased happiness for her partner.

Link slows to an easy lope before stopping, peering down at them from behind his blond bangs. "Where're you going?" he asks in confusion. "The temple's that way. C'mon."

Sheik almost takes a step forward.

_I understand that you would like a chance to talk with him_, Zelda murmurs, _and I know that it is an unstated element of our agreement, but now is not the time. Ganondorf must not suspect us._

Refusing to meet Link's concerned gaze, Sheik grimaces and warps.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Unfortunately, Link catches on quickly.

When he slams into them, it is Zelda who is in possession of their body and therefore Zelda who heavily crashes into the ground with an annoyed Hero riding her back. The impact knocks the wind from her lungs and she gasps, blinking furiously through the rising cloud of dirt in the air.

_He didn't expect you to lose your balance_, chuckles Sheik.

_How could he have expected anything less_!? _He's like a brick wall_!

Coughing, she attempts to push herself up onto her arms, but Link is a terrifyingly dead weight pinning her down. Unbidden, she is suddenly reminded of laughing Gerudo women and dining utensils and Ganondorf's breath on her cheek. She panics.

Wordlessly, Sheik takes control.

"What the hell," mutters Link, apologetically easing up on them by sitting on his heels, "is it just me or do you always have somewhere else to be?"

With the grace of a predator, Sheik rolls onto their back and inquisitively gazes up at the Hero straddling them. "I wasn't aware that I had a reason to remain behind," he prompts, intrigued.

Link's honest face is painfully incredulous. "A reason?"

_Please don't play mind games with him_, tiredly chides Zelda.

_I'm not_.

Sighing, Link nimbly rolls to his feet before helping the Sheikah stand. "Really, Sheik?" he asks softly, and there's stinging disappointment in those words. Sheik responds emotionally to that disappointment with the perplexed guilt of one who does not understand what was done wrong but would quickly like to make amends. "There're a dozen lives at stake, waiting for us, and you want a reason?"

Sheik eyes Link and points out, "The Goron tribe is waiting for the Hero of Time."

"Since when is it a requirement to be a hero to give others a hand?" balks Link, Navi bobbing in agitated circles around his head.

"It is written that the Hero of Time — "

Link scrubs his face wearily with a gauntleted hand. "Look, I'm just a guy with a fancy sword, so don't make me into something I'm not." Awkwardly, he glances away. "I'm not doing this out of any sense of obligation or…or destiny, you know? I'm doing this because I want to help."

Zelda beams.

Sheik smiles briefly from behind the cowl, eyes lowered. "I can't promise that I will always be able to accompany you into the temples. However…"

_Sheik_, she chimes in, torn, _this may not be a good idea._

"…I also wish to help."

Link's grin is worth it.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Sheik," begins Link tentatively, "we're friends, right?"

Uttering a soft exclamation of surprise, the man in question very nearly trips over his own feet. "W-what?"

Quite unhelpfully, Zelda sniggers.

_Quiet, you_, Sheik mutters.

"…uh, Sheik? We are, aren't we?"

The Sheikah looks up to answer in time to see that Link is about to walk off an invisible ledge. Cursing creatively under his breath, he throws himself into the hero with enough momentum to send them both flying into a wall.

"Okay, I get it!" grouses Link, hurt. "You don't have to answer me!"

"Idiot! How many times do I have to tell you?" Sheik growls, abruptly standing and hitching the cowl up higher. "Do _not_ walk ahead of me!"

Link blinks. "What? Oh. I, uh, almost got myself killed again, huh?" And then he laughs.

_That's Link for you_, she remarks airily, laughing as well.

"Idiot," repeats the Sheikah in annoyance, but she's not sure who he's addressing.

"You already said that!"

Huffing, Sheik irritably storms off down a corridor, red eyes glowing in the shadows of the temple, and Link surges to his feet, dutifully following with a bright smile.

Zelda listens to her partner's half-hearted complaints about Hyrule's sorry excuse of a hero and hides her own smile.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Somewhere in between the contorted tangle of ugly lies and necessary secrecy, between the next assassination target and the next slumbering sage, between guiding the Hero of Time and serving the King of Evil, Sheik of the Sheikah will reach a crossroad. Zelda knew this, awaited this, and understood that, when the day came, it would not be a brave hero or a twisted king or a dethroned princess who would chose Hyrule's fate.

In her fluttering, whispering visions, she saw a young man, broken and jaded, forsaken and hated, standing in the center of three opposing forces. Sheik, with his shattered pride and biting sarcasm and wan dreams, would decide judgment day.

And so she prayed that their time together had been enough.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The scene is surreal.

A strangled sob works its way up their throat as flesh sizzles off the farmhand's raw back in wet, blood-soaked strips. Sheik's frenetic voice does not reach her, has been overpoweringly drowned out by the sharp crack of the whip and the girl's screams. Inert, Zelda watches the nightmare unfold.

_Relinquish control of my body immediately, princess. You're _—

Innocent men have died by their hand. It would have been impossible to carry on this deadly charade under Ganondorf's eye without casualties; she had understood that. And although she had never been the one to draw the knife across her men's throats, although each kill had been delivered as swiftly and mercifully as possible, she also understood that she had had the power to stop each one of those meaningless deaths. Yes, she could have stretched up into their spine, reached down through their muscles, and have stopped that awful knife each time. But she didn't.

Zelda, you see, is just as much, if not more, of a murderer than Sheik.

— _clearly not handling the situation well — _

The ring of death and torture tightens below; the motley crew of brainwashed Gerudo women and treacherous Hylian men hungrily descend upon the rancher and his daughter, grasping at them with smiling sabers and feverishly bright eyes and voracious bloodthirst. Screaming, Link's sweetheart desperately claws the face of the man who tries to rip open her bodice. She disappears under the swinging fists of three men and does not resurface.

— _mustn't interfere! We mustn't draw our lord's attention before we meet with Viscen_!

Ah yes, that's right. Tonight, after five harrowing years, she would finally return to her own body, now completely healed of the knife wound and purged of its curse. Once her soul had anchored itself, her agreement with Sheik would come to an end and he would be free to choose his own path. Tonight, if Sheik did not kill her, she would meet with Link and explain everything to him.

Tonight, they would end this war.

_If you reveal your identity, Link will be _—

The unconscious rancher provides little entertainment for the raid party. He is gutted artlessly before his bruised and bloodied daughter's eyes and then nailed to the side of the barn. Screeching, the filthy crows do not wait for the humans to leave before swooping down upon the unfortunate man.

"How 'bout a round or two, darling?" lowly suggests an ex-soldier as he hikes up the girl's skirts. She doesn't scream. She stares up at her father's hanging corpse and makes these hitched, gasping noises and doesn't resist when the man unbuckles his pants to gingerly stroke himself.

Zelda could end this all _now_. Wordlessly, she slips off the roof.

_Princess, no!_

"No more," she says, and the knife she loathes sinks into the unsuspecting man's face. "No more," and she slams the knife hilt into another's temple, "no more, no more, no _more_." Panting, she stares down into Malon's terrified face and then tremblingly reaches out to the girl.

Sheik screams, _You'll ruin Link, you goddamn fool!_ and tears her out of his body.

Unlike that day in the forest, there is little pain involved; he has cleanly severed her ties to the weakened seal and expelled her. Now she is no more than a vague florescent light, twinkling in and out of existence. She knows that if she does not properly anchor herself, she will become like the poes, wandering spirits trapped in between dimensions. But, unlike that day in the forest, she is strong enough to force her way inside a resisting host with or without a binding ritual — she fastens onto a nearby Gerudo bystander and _pushes_. Already suppressed by Ganondorf's brainwashing, the woman does not possess the energy to oppose another outside force.

Zelda opens amber eyes.

Smoothly, without disrupting Zelda's previous action in reaching towards the girl, Sheik slides an arm behind Malon's neck, holds her jaw in place, and slits her exposed throat. Zelda bites down on her lip, hard, to silence her cry.

"Oi, oi!" protests a Gerudo in irritation. "What the fuck is wrong with you? It was just getting interesting!"

A man flips the body of the ex-soldier off Malon's lap. "You bastard! You killed him!"

Sheik stands. "Oh?" he murmurs silkily. "I must have mistakenly been under the impression that my lord had informed me that there would be no time to play with the traitors."

The Gerudo woman and Hylian men pale.

"Please, excuse me and carry on," continues the Sheikah in a lazy tone. When several seconds pass without any of his company moving, he cocks an eyebrow. "Ah, have you changed your minds then? Very well." He drops down beside the farmhand's convulsing body and silences his breathy whimpering with the damn knife.

Zelda schools her expression carefully, mind racing, as Sheik's flat, red eyes scan the faces of his raid party. _He's looking for me_, she realizes, unconsciously swatting away her host's curious mental prodding. _Our deal is terminated, but he knows about Viscen and Link. Will he kill me_?

"Well!?" he barks, and she is surprised by the anger in his voice. "Finish up here, fools!"

The raid party immediately scuttles to nail the remaining two bodies to the side of the barn with the first. Pretending to help, she studies the distracted Sheik from the corner of her eye and tries to discern his intentions. _Now that we're no longer bound together, he could easily sell Link out to Ganondorf and have my body disposed of. I want to believe that he wouldn't but…_

"_You'll ruin Link, you goddamn fool!_"

Zelda inhales sharply and berates herself. Of course Sheik wouldn't betray them; he genuinely cares about Link. And not only that —

Noticing her scrutiny, Sheik's desperate gaze meets her searching one.

— and not only that, but Sheik genuinely cares about her.

Resolved, she looks him straight in the eye and concedes him the tiniest of acknowledging nods. If she hadn't spent the last five years in his skin, she would not have detected the relieved twitch of his mouth before he turned away from her.

"Come," he bids quietly to his company. "His Majesty is waiting."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Come!" he snaps harshly. "Ganondorf knows!"

Together, the two youths race across the withered courtyard and crash into the great doors, impatiently shouldering them open and stumblingly into the Temple of Time. Viscen is there, anxiously pacing across the floor, and starts badly at their entrance.

"P-princess!" he calls, mistakenly addressing Sheik. Warily, he frowns at Zelda's host. "Who is this?"

Growling, Sheik shoves the man aside. "There's no time!" Behind the altar, laid out before the Doors of Time like some sacrifice, is Zelda's seventeen-year-old body. The gentle, serene expression shocks Zelda, and for a moment she loiters, staring at this lifeless doll blankly. "For the love of — transfer your soul, princess!" Sheik snarls.

The Gerudo woman crumples to the ground; Zelda sits up.

"Thank gods," sighs Viscen, about to hurry over, but the doors to the Temple of Time are opening again, now to admit the Hero of Time.

"Hero," wearily greets Sheik, shoulders sagging in relief. "Listen to me, Ganon — "

Link's fist drives Sheik's skull into the wall behind them with a resonating crack, his face split in wrath. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Sheik slumps down the wall, blood streaking, and collapses on the ground. "W-wait," he says, moaning, "_Link _— "

Link will never know what Sheik had been about to say, but really, how is that any different from any of the other things Link will never know? Indeed, he'll never know that Sheik and Zelda shared a body for five years, or that if Sheik hadn't murdered Malon, Ganondorf would have found and killed Link. And no, Link will never know how much Sheik has done for them, how much of his fractured being he has given, and Zelda thinks brokenly, _You'll never know how much he loves you._

Legs buckling, she seizes his arm just as he reaches to draw the Master Sword. "Stop it, Link!" she hoarsely cries, vocal chords shuddering and squeezing unpleasantly.

He glances at her, upper lip curled, and pauses, eyes widening incredulously. "_Zelda_?"

"W-what's going on?" groans the Gerudo, pushing herself up onto all fours. Her forehead gem is broken. "Where am I?" Wringing his hands nervously, Viscen moves to help her.

Link tightens his grip on the legendary blade, glancing between the fallen Sheikah and the princess in a mixture of rage and incomprehension. "What's going on?" he demands brusquely. The skin around his eyes, she notices in pity, is puffy and red.

"Link, we — "

Sheik's head lolls to the side. "He's here," he whispers.

Her heart careening, Zelda opens her mouth to warn Link, but suddenly she's whirling through the air like a puppet on a string, tendrils of magic draping over her limbs. Before she can lash out with her own magic, she is entombed in a pink prism. "W-what!?"

Viscen shouts in horror, nearly dropping the Gerudo woman, and then Ganondorf's dark voice is rolling over them like thunder. "Sheik!" he hisses furiously. "You foolish traitor! You've betrayed me!"

"Yes, well, it's what I do best," weakly quips Sheik.

And not only Link, but all of Hyrule, will never know what a lie that was.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The rest, as they say, is history.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**A/N:** A few more notes: (1) A line from Zelda's dialogue comes from the LoZ manga, "hide at the breast of the enemy," although in the manga, it's Impa who says it and (2) not mentioned and not really important but Viscen is the one who gives Link the light arrows in JD.

And again, thank you for taking the time to send me feedback! You guys are awesome.


End file.
